Red Queen
by Ololon
Summary: The Tok'ra enlist SG1's help to stop Baal taking humans with special powers, hok'taur, for his new queen. But what they find could mean the destruction of the goa'uld and the salvation of the Tok'ra. Chars Malek, Jacob, Anise, Delek, SG1, OFC, Bratac
1. Chapter 1

**Red Queen**

'Until you meet an alien intelligence, you will not know what it is to be human' (Frank Herbert)

**- - -**

**Title: **Red Queen

**Author: **Ololon

**Rating: **Initially PG, but later chapters will rise to T/M largely for

Nasty situation. Action/adventure, some drama, some horror, some romance.

**Summary: **The Tok'ra request SG1's assistance when they learn that Baal may have acquired a goa'uld queen in a human host with special powers – a hok'taur. The truth proves to be quite different, and could hold the key to the destruction of the goa'uld – or the survival of the Tok'ra.

**Characters: **Malek, Jacob/Selmak, Delek, Anise/Freya, SG1, Bratac, OFC (sorry: necessary for the plot!)

**Story notes: **Set late season 7 through season 8. I'm quite approximate with the timeline and you may consider it slightly AU in that certain characters that died during these seasons stay alive in my fic I use the characters of Malek/Darin that I introduced in Balancing the Books, but you do not need to read that fic to understand this one.

**Technical notes: **Spelling is British English. In general, italics is host/symbiote communication, or internal thoughts for non-blended individuals. Bold is for emphasis. Please note this fic is going to be novel-length (circa 75,000 words). 90% of it is written as of this chapter (but only about 5% formatted). The rest will hopefully be done as I go along. I will not take forever to upload between chapters.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Stargate SG1 or any of its characters or even my own symbiote I make no profit from this. I also do not own the stargate, or I would go on funky adventures through it (and get my arse kicked).

_I've been writing this since early 2008, so it's taken a while and a lot of effort. Please review if you read, and ask if you'd like to link or archive elsewhere. Once formatted, I hope to upload to livejournal as well._

**- - -**

**PART 1**

'The unknown, the unforetold, the unproven, that is what life is based on. Ignorance is the ground of thought. Unproof is the ground of action. If it were proven that there is no God, there would be no religion...But also if it were proven that there is a God, there would be no religion.'

(The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula le Guin)

**Chapter 1**

Malek could sense their presence out of the corner of his eye, hovering tentatively outside his office door – or entrance, rather, since Tok'ra tunnels **had** no doors, a fact he was finding increasingly irritating this week, as it seemingly meant everyone felt they could interrupt him whenever they wanted. Couldn't they **see **he was busy?

"Yes, what is it?" he demanded testily. Ordinarily, Darin would have gently chided him for his terse manner, but his host was as fed up as he was, and remained in silent agreement.

"An urgent report," the centurion reported, holding up a data pad, "From outpost thirty-one."

"Thirty-one?" Malek repeated, frowning, gesturing impatiently for the pad. That was odd. The centurion handed it over hastily. Malek began scanning whilst the guard hovered. He raised his eyes, adding, pointedly, "You may go now." The man escaped in evident relief.

_You intimidate him, _was Darin's observation.

_Good. There have to be some compensations for this onerous duty._

_Really, Malek, _and this time Darin's tone **was **gently chiding, albeit a little amused as well. _You're like a sulking child sometimes._

_I am not!_

_I'm sure Garshaw will let us get back onto research soon. Or perhaps another command._

_I'm sure she won't. And stop trying to soothe me! _He could hear Darin's mental laughter ringing around their skull at that, and, giving in, gave him a mental 'hug'.

_Impudent boy, _he nevertheless couldn't resist adding.

_Grumpy old man,_ came the instant retort.

_First I'm a child, then I'm an old man. Make up your mind. _Darin just 'tickled' him, and a chuckle escaped him at that. He didn't mind Darin's teasing, of course; in fact, he treasured it. It had taken Darin a long time to become comfortable and confident enough to attempt such a thing, and they were all the closer for it, he mused. Thinking about it mellowed his mood slightly.

He had yet to be assigned a more permanent position after the destruction of the base he had been the commander of, and Garshaw had found it best to utilise him in a stopgap fashion wherever someone of experience was required. Hence he'd had a mission (successful, but with an unplanned rescue action that the Council had taken a rather dim view of), a couple of his favoured research projects, and most recently, was functioning in the capacity of Senior Information Officer at the Tok'ra's largest base. In other words, collating all the gathered intelligence and presenting it at regular intervals to the High Council, and coordinating the particulars of organising missions. His analytical skills were well-suited to the task, particularly matched with Darin's keen insight at reading people and situations. Nevertheless, they were both finding it wearying and frequently tedious.

_Well what's this urgent report about then? _Darin wanted to know. _Did it come via Bratac?_

_It's possible, _Malek admitted, knowing several key rebel Jaffa emplacements were in that general area. After the, in his mind disastrous, severing of the official alliance between the Tok'ra, Jaffa and Tau'ri, he and Bra'tac had kept up their own 'unofficial' contact, passing information between their peoples and providing limited assistance wherever possible. They weren't the only ones of course; there were other Jaffa and Tok'ra sympathetic to the spirit of the alliance, and Jacob/Selmak in particular were keeping up the contact with the Tau'ri as best as possible. Nevertheless, he had known immediately that this was something unusual.

The agent at Outpost 31 was not on an infiltration mission, but rather keeping a distant eye on Jaffa troop movements by the System Lords in that region. However, since Anubis had shaken everything up, their power had been decimated and the reports had been dutiful but uneventful. It was a worrying possibility that one of the System Lords might be taking the opportunity presented by Anubis' defeat to rebuild their armies and conquer territory.

_Terya/Jent have always been thorough and reliable, _Darin commented, as Malek scanned the report, seeing for the moment nothing more than the usual – but then, this report would have had to be relayed, and if its contents were as sensitive as the 'urgent' status implied….he applied a level four decryption, and a hidden file appeared, appended to the status report. His sense of disquiet only grew as he read it; it wasn't troop build-ups or any overt aggression by the System Lords, but something altogether more sinister than that.

_I think we need to take this to the High Council._

* * *

The lavish meal lay untouched upon the table; she was still debating about the jug of wine. Perhaps it would calm her, but the thought of it made her as sick as the food she knew she should eat, but could not face. The excessive spread matched the room; generously proportioned, and furnished in a fashion that suggested someone had been aiming for restrained and impressive, with dark columns and geometric arches, but hadn't quite been able to resist the temptation to flaunt their wealth and overlaid it with gold gilt everywhere. No matter the luxury, it was still a prison; there were a couple of enormous guards with those huge…huge laser-shooting lacrosse sticks or whatever the hell they were outside the locked door, and she was still trapped here against her will. And currently still sitting hyperventilating on an overdone canopied bed large enough for her whole family because she hadn't moved for the past however many minutes, petrified like a miserable little rabbit.

"Dr Eleanor Grace Stewart, you have **got** to pull yourself together!" she whispered under her breath, for about the fifth time. "It's funny really," she continued, aware that she was babbling to herself, but unable to stop, "You see, it really is funny. Why, only the other day you were scoffing about those sad losers who're convinced they've been abducted by little grey aliens, and now here you are! Abducted by aliens! Albeit by someone who looks more like the gangsta rapper brother of Ming the Merciless, complete with evil henchmen. You see, it's funny, it's funny isn't it? It's ironic. This is what you get for wasting your life reading too much sci-fi. It's funny, it's funny, laugh, you can laugh about it, you _should_ laugh about it…." She trailed off, and abruptly burst into tears instead, to her utter humiliation. If that didn't take the biscuit. She had always despised those lame female characters who burst into tears (or, worse, indulged in some high-pitched screaming) and did nothing but sit around waiting for some handsome man to come and rescue them, and what was she doing? Well, apart from the last bit anyway, as she foolishly forgot to invest in a useful bloke, before getting abducted. _Lack of planning there, Stewart, _she thought, with a dark, gallows humour. Then, finally, she did laugh, a little hysterically, admittedly, but when at last she stopped, she felt better. Calmer.

She also knew that foolish attempts at heroics were not what people did when they got captured. Life wasn't science fiction, even if it was currently doing a damned good impression. Everybody begged, everybody was frightened, nobody got away by making a rope from the bedsheets…actually, there was an idea. Deliberately, she put it aside until later. She had to think. She had to be smart; it was, after all, the only talent she had. And the first smart thing to do would be to have something to eat and drink. Possibly it was drugged, of course, but there didn't seem to be any necessity to do so. No, in fact, when you thought about it, the opulent surroundings suggested someone wanted to take good care of their prisoner, so the food was probably what it appeared to be.

She piled up a plate and sat down to have a hard think, a necessarily grim process. First things first. Review what had happened – and, a sudden thought – when. She looked at her watch. God, it had only been twelve hours. Twelve hours since she had left the lab and cycled home, and she'd felt a brief, agonising tingling, before passing out. And waking up in some sort of a – a spaceship (even as she thought it, it felt silly) in a much less comfortable cell. The henchmen had brought her, still groggy and half-thinking she must be dreaming, before their Evil Master (god, where was she – in orbit around planet cliché?) who had looked human but had an odd voice, and had waved some sort of a device over her before saying 'Excellent. Perfect,' and dismissing them. She'd possibly passed out again. Her memory of the past few hours was suspiciously vague But for the last few of them, she'd been here, which was definitely on a planet.

As recently as yesterday, the thought of being on an alien planet would have thrilled her to pieces, but now it was just another frightening, despair-inducing fact. Even considering the astronomically unlikely possibility that she could escape, where the hell would she go? Assuming the nearby climate was congenial enough for her to survive, she would still have to avoid Ming and the Evil Henchmen, find and get help from the local inhabitants, if there were any, and still have no hope of getting home. Wonderful. She felt tears well up again, and ruthlessly stamped on the feeling. First things first. She would do what she could; any opportunity she had to improve the situation, no matter how minimally, she would take. In the meantime, anything she could learn, she would. Grimly, she bit down on a seasoned leg of…_let's assume it's chicken._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Malek made his speech to just those few of the High Council who were currently present at this outpost; Areth/Persus, Jacob/Selmak and Kyen/Delek. That made one likely to favour them, one against, and one who could go either way, as Darin had observed nervously.

"According to our contact's source, Baal, who as you know recently defeated Anubis, has retired not to the traditional seat of his power, but a less obvious outpost of his realm, where he continues to take any opportunity he can to grow in strength," he explained carefully. "This will likely later prove a problem, although Anubis also is rebuilding his forces, so it is a question whom will prove the greater threat, and when. That however is not the issue of most concern at present. Baal has apparently acquired as much as information as possible on Nirrti's genetic experimentation on humans; our contact believes with a view to acquiring a host with special abilities far beyond that of the ordinary human, a hok'taur, in fact."

"I question the significance of this information," Delek spoke up, "Nirrti had very limited success, and even if Baal were to create a human with, for example, telekinetic powers, this alone is hardly sufficient to pose a significant threat."

"There is more. He has acquired several humans, which he has been using for such experiments, at least one of whom he took from the Tau'ri homeworld."

"From Earth?" Jacob repeated, somewhat incredulously.

"Apparently so."

"That is most peculiar," Selmak took over to comment, frowning. "Why would he go to such trouble? There must be literally millions of humans that are under his sway; he could take any of them."

"Reportedly, he has been collecting humans from an extremely wide-ranging domain, which suggests he is looking for something specific."

Malek wanted to add more, but Darin had convinced him to leave **that **particular bombshell until last, saying it would make more impact then, and he trusted his host's judgement.

"Distasteful as his experimentation on humans no doubt may be," Delek said, "It is not of a primary concern to us, certainly not when our resources are spread so thin. There is nothing we can do to help them, if indeed it is the case."

Persus, Malek noted, was just listening. _He never makes a judgement until he has all the facts, _Darin noted. _Now would be a good time for the punchline, as Jacob would say._

"Unfortunately in this case you are right. There is another matter of more pressing concern, namely that our agent's source in Baal's fortress is convinced that he has acquired a Goa'uld queen." A surprised murmur ran around the table.

"It is still a question as to where Anubis found the Queen he was using to breed Goa'uld for his super-soldiers," Selmak remarked, "And so it is possible there are more out there as yet unaccounted for. Nevertheless, they are rapidly heading towards extinction, and so it seems unlikely."

"How certain are you of this information?" Delek wanted to know, "If I recall correctly, Outpost thirty-one is a monitoring position, not an embedded agent. Where did they acquire this intelligence, and how reliable is it?"

"A rebel Jaffa positioned with Baal," Malek admitted reluctantly. There were not a few raised eyebrows at that.

"So, not very then," Delek said, cuttingly, "Has he actually **seen** this queen?"

"No," Malek admitted, "But it is suggestive that all the humans Baal has acquired are female, and he has personally always had a male host."

"I find it odd that he would try and find – or create – a hok'taur, and then just give it to another Goa'uld. The whole reason their population has been declining so precipitously is due to their inability to let any other Goa'uld mature, let alone rise to power, even to the detriment of their own species." Delek's suspicion was frequently irritating, and yet he usually had a point to it.

"I admit it does not make much sense. The Jaffa is trying to gather more intelligence. Nevertheless I think we want neither a System Lord with superhuman abilities, nor a new Goa'uld queen, nor any combination of the two."

"I agree," Persus added, "It's worth investigating further, but I don't think it's serious enough to warrant taking any more direct action just yet, nor can we afford to." Malek sighed. Persus was the swing vote, and he'd just lost.

"If he has taken humans from Earth, someone should tell Stargate Command," Jacob spoke up, as they'd known he would.

"Would that someone be you, by any chance?" Delek's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Selmak, at least, was immune to it.

"Perhaps, but we still don't know how accurate this information is, nor do I think even they would risk a rescue mission on the basis of inaccurate information, and for an unknown human not part of their organisation. No, I'm sorry, but we wait for a little more solid evidence."

_May I? _Darin asked suddenly, wanting control, and Malek acceded at once.

"If we do that," Darin said calmly, no doubt surprising the Council by speaking out, "And we find out the information **is** correct, then the Tau'ri will be understandably angry that we did not inform them earlier, and will accuse us of witholding intelligence of importance to them. Whilst the possibility that Baal took some humans from Earth will be a disquieting one to them, the fact that he was able to do so undetected may be more so. Indeed, it may be a security risk to them – and to us – if he were able to send **his** agents to potentially infiltrate their government, or the military. If we are wrong, then no lasting harm will be done and we will still be seen to have acted with good intentions for a people with whom our relations have been somewhat strained of late."

"Those are excellent points," Selmak replied, before anybody else could speak up, and Darin felt a glow of pleasure; Selmak's praise was rare. "If we simply inform them that this is preliminary information that we are trying to confirm, and that we do not yet know the location of his new base, then we will be keeping faith with the Tau'ri, without giving them the means for precipitate action. Once we have more intelligence, whether it confirm or be to the contrary of what we already know, then we can act accordingly."

"Agreed," Persus nodded decisively. Delek plainly didn't agree, but then, as Darin observed to his symbiote, with no small degree of satisfaction, he was outvoted.

"Malek, please make the arrangements for a possible infiltration mission," Persus added, almost as an afterthought.

_I knew there had to be a catch to getting that vote, _he thought, wryly.

* * *

Another fine meal was growing cold upon the table. Trying to be unafraid was no longer an option. Doing nothing was no longer an option. She had seen what had happened to the other prisoners; seen, and wished to goodness she hadn't. One by one over the past two months they had been taken out from their opulent apartments. She hadn't known what had been happening to most of them, but she was taken to the…laboratory, was the only word for it…once a week herself, for measurements, readings, all sorts of tests. Strange instruments waved over her. Blood samples taken. And some of the others had been down there, in the isolation rooms behind the transparent screens. She had seen people unconscious upon the floor, the overseer frowning over them. She had seen one of the corpses lying open and half-dissected on a slab in the middle of the lab. She had seen one of the henchmen remove his shirt, and a slimy, seeking head snake out of his body and jump into one screaming young woman. That had made her throw up on the floor. She had seen the tank in the corner of the room, the sinuous forms swimming within.

Under other circumstances she might have been fascinated. Wow, an alien lifeform! _Wow, _she thought to herself, sourly. That tank had slowly depleted in numbers, as had the prisoners. And she heard the strange tone in the voice of the newly possessed woman; the same as that of the overseer and the despot who had kidnapped her. It didn't take a genius or even a biologist to figure out the connection. One of the other prisoners evidently had worked it out too; she had passed her lifeless body being carried through the corridor by the henchmen – Jaffa, they were called – a curtain cord knotted around her bruised neck. And yet, impossibly, she had seen the same woman alive and revived, being taken crying to the fate that apparently even suicide couldn't save you from. Three weeks later she had seen the same poor woman fitting and convulsing upon the floor, as though she were having an epileptic fit, whilst the overseer stood dispassionately monitoring, until finally the woman emitted an unholy scream and, eyes burning incandescent, collapsed and died upon the floor.

"How disappointing," had been Baal's comment, when he came in to see what was happening. Then he had come over to her, lifted her trembling chin with long fingers. Cold rings pressed lightly against her flesh. "Perhaps this one will prove to be the one we are looking for."

"Her parameters are most favourable, my lord," the overseer had replied. "Her genetic make-up is the closest match so far, and she is of an ideal age."

"When will the next symbiote be ready?" Baal asked.

"A few days more for the next larva to mature, my lord, would be suitable, although – "

"Yes?" Baal queried impatiently,

"My lord, if I may make a suggestion. I believe the chances of success would be improved were we to implant a symbiote that had already had experience of a human host." Baal pursed his lips briefly, considering.

"I will find one," he said, then left without a further word.

She had no intention of hanging around those next few days and waiting for them to stick some grotesque parasite in her; frankly, the horrible lingering death shortly after that was preferable to whatever they wanted actually _working. _Of course, that meant finding a way to escape. Last time she checked, she bore a poor resemblance to any of the more popular action heroes, and nor had her supposedly keen intellect come up with anything resembling a credible plan. But the stubborn, human, or simply _alive _part of her refused to just roll over and die. Which was why she was currently knotting her bedsheets together and tying them to the curtains with the cords. She made fast one end to the bed, forced open the window and slung the sheets out. They didn't quite reach to the ground, but it was enough that you could jump the rest and not break your bones. Good. Then she palmed a fork from the dinner service and crawled under the bed and hid, quite aware how ridiculous this was.

It seemed an age before the henchmen opened the door to her room. One rushed to the window, looking out and searching for her. She held her breath.

"Jaffa kree!" he bellowed to his companion, who glanced out as well before they both rushed out of the room. The heavy metallic-looking doors began to swing shut behind them, so she reached out and slipped the fork into the seal. It bent, but a small crack remained. Heavy running footsteps receded into the distance. Shouts began to rise from the courtyard. As if she could get out that way!

She did not dare wait any longer, and, heart pounding fit to burst out of her chest, slid cautiously out from under the bed. She spent at least five minutes trying to force open the bloody doors, and finally managed to squeeze through before they slammed shut again. This was as far as she had got in the Crazy Plan department. The likelihood of her actually making it out of the castle had to be close to zero, but she was going to damned well try. Attuned to the slightest noise and movement, she crept forward. She had no idea which way to go, but heading downward to ground level would be a good start.

She hardly managed to get more than two corridors before a clanking behind her announced more Jaffa and she bolted ahead in sudden panic, skidding round the corner in the silly soft slippers – and barrelled straight into Baal. For a moment, he looked as startled as she did, then he threw back his head and laughed. She swung a right cross at him with all the force and desperation she owned, and was rewarded with a solid hit on his jaw. His head snapped back, the eyes flashed, and then she was seized by the approaching Jaffa, and backhanded so hard she probably would have fallen if they hadn't had been holding her.

"Enough!" Baal commanded, angry. He returned his attention to her, and his temper receded. He chuckled again, and she hated that she clearly made no impression on him whatsoever.

"My my, aren't we the eager one?" he mocked, "So am I." He tilted her head up again, examining her face, she thought. She considered spitting at him, but it probably wouldn't help. She made no reply, sullen and still somewhat dazed. "Bring her," he ordered the Jaffa, "It's time."

So they took her down to the laboratory, half-carrying her, because refusing to walk was the last, childish protest left to her now, and she was briefly too angry to be scared.

"Her face is bruised," the overseer tutted. "I told you they should be in peak condition, my lord."

"I also wrecked my knuckles on his ugly mug and dented my nose on his pompous chest. We should postpone this until I'm better." The overseer ignored her and Baal just laughed again. "You have spirit, Dr Stewart, I'll grant you that. It's almost a shame to lose it, but you're about to become part of something much greater. You should be humbled."

They stripped her and strapped her face down to the table, although they hardly needed to. Fear had once again taken over and she was almost paralysed with terror. Every time she thought she had reached the limits of fear, she found more, and then yet more again. The dread was almost too much to stand, too much even for her to scream. She wanted this over, but knew that _over _was at the end of an unspeakable horror yet to be experienced. She could hear a high-pitched squealing as a Jaffa walked over and lifted his shirt. She shut her eyes. It was the one last thing she could do, but they snapped open again in involuntary agony as the parasite burrowed into her flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

Malek and Selmak rematerialised on the other side of the Stargate and stepped out onto the metal grille of the ramp. Darin looked around with interest whilst Jacob warmly embraced his daughter, who had come to meet him; they had never visited the Tau'ri before. Malek was too preoccupied with worrying, still. Dr Jackson, whom they also had not met before, was quick to step forward and introduce himself, and show them to the briefing room.

"Jacob, it's a pleasure, don't get me wrong, but I must admit I'm a little surprised to have a visit from the Tok'ra," General Hammond ventured, his tone as mild as usual, but a little cool, and no wonder.

"Yeh, considering how you decided we weren't worthy allies anymore," Colonel O'Neill interrupted with his usual sarcasm, earning him a warning look from Hammond.

"Believe me, Colonel," Selmak replied, "There is by no means a consensus on the status of our treaty, but that is not why we are here. We have received information that we believe concerns the Tau'ri." Selmak glanced significantly at Darin/Malek, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Two months ago I received a report from one of our outposts that contained some information passed on by a rebel Jaffa who had been in the service of Baal. It appeared to indicate that he had acquired Nirrti's genetic research and has been kidnapping humans and experimenting on them to find or make a hok'taur. The Jaffa thought that some of the humans had possibly come from Earth."

"And you didn't tell us this two months ago because….?" asked O'Neill.

"The information was by no means reliable, or even current. The report was confusing and contradictory; all the humans were female, but Baal has always had male hosts. The Jaffa thought it possible that Baal had acquired a Goa'uld queen and was looking for a host for them, but it did not make sense that he would want a hok'taur for this purpose."

"Because he wouldn't want another Goa'uld to be more powerful than him?" Daniel said.

"Precisely, Dr Jackson. I directed our agent to try and get more reliable information from the Jaffa, but it transpired that they had left Baal's service to join the rebels a month before that, and he admitted that he had not seen any of the humans himself; it was only court rumour."

"Clearly," Selmak added smoothly, "We did not want to act on the basis of rumour, or provide you with false information, so we tried to infiltrate his court and obtain more reliable intelligence."

"And?"

"Our operative had only very limited success. It can take several months, if not years, for an undercover agent to rise to a position of trust and knowledge within the entourage of a System Lord, and all the Goa'uld have recently become far more wary of betrayal. They succeeded only in gaining information by bribing some of the human slaves. We have confirmed for certain much of what the Jaffa passed on: namely, that Baal has been going to great lengths to acquire specific humans, and is experimenting upon them, and that they are all female. A number have died already, after implantation with symbiotes, something we are at a loss to explain. We do not know if any of them have powers such that they could be considered hok'taur."

"So, you don't, in actual fact, know anything useful at all," Jack summarised bluntly.

"We know that one of these humans is definitely from Earth," Jacob replied, "Because we have this." He put a small object down on the table. "One of the slaves smuggled it out." Daniel reached to pick it up, although everyone could see what it was: a slightly battered digital watch.

"We can't be the only culture that's discovered digital watches," Jack pointed out.

"It's a Casio," said Daniel, "With standard Arabic numerals."

"They're Arabic?" Daniel looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"They're the numbers _we_ use, Jack. And she's probably not American. Or not living in the States anyway."

"How the hell do you know _that?_" Daniel's face was innocence personified.

"Wrong timezone. This is eight hours behind."

"Be that as it may," Hammond dragged them back to the topic in hand, "I don't understand what you want us to do about it."

"Other than consider tightening the security round Earth, George? We want to mount a rescue mission."

"Woh, woh, woh!" Jack said, emphatically, earning himself a look from pretty much everyone present. "Look, I don't mean to sound harsh here, but there are literally millions of humans that are slaves to the Goa'uld, why should we go risking our asses to rescue some of them from, may I remind you, right under the nose of the most powerful System Lord out there? Okay, so one of them is from Earth and they may _or may not _be one of these hockeys, but we gotta have more than that for such a risk. And such lousy intel."

"I can tell you two things you **don't** want," Jacob replied calmly, "Baal with his hands on a human with god-knows-what powers, and/or Baal with a Goa'uld queen."

"Why does he want a queen anyway?" asked Daniel, "I thought Goa'ulds hated each other."

"But without larval Goa'uld he cannot build his Jaffa armies," Teal'c supplied.

"Exactly." Jack's eyes narrowed.

"And, apart from kicking Baal's balls, excuse me sir, why do the **Tok'ra** want to do this? Last I checked you weren't exactly into the rescue mission business. Might it have something to do with getting your hands on some hok- whatever hosts?"

"Even assuming they would wish to be blended, of what use is a hok'taur to us?" Selmak answered calmly, although Malek was pretty sure he had had to quash the temptation to flash his eyes at the insulting implication. "We are infiltrators. A host would in most circumstances be unable to use their special abilities without drawing attention to themselves. Moreover, they would be a great security risk if they were captured." Jack sat back, briefly chastened.

"Our immediate goal is as always," Malek added, "To prevent one System Lord from gaining too much power. Moreover we feel it is too dangerous to allow the knowledge of Nirti's genetic experiments to remain at large, even if Baal is unsuccessful; we would wish also to destroy his database."

"But what do you want us for?"

"Jack, you know very well the Tok'ra can't mount this kind of mission, not without help, we're just not equipped for it."

"And the High Council gave you their blessing for a joint mission?" Hammond asked, giving Jacob a shrewd glance. Jacob and Malek shared an uncomfortable glance.

"Jacob…"

"We don't exactly have their blessing, no, but we do have permission to present you with what we've got and see what you want to do about it."

"Although you are correct that our intelligence with regards to Baal's activities is somewhat…lacking," Malek added, "We have a great deal of strategic information."

"Well, let's take a look at it and see how feasible this is," Hammond decided, "Lord knows I don't like the idea of Baal taking humans from Earth anymore than you do."

* * *

Exactly one week later, and SG1, Malek and Jacob were standing in a laboratory in the middle of Baal's citadel. Malek was working feverishly at a console, trying to extract as much data as he could, acutely aware of a seriously pissed off Colonel O'Neill glowering behind them.

"I thought this mission was going too easy," said Colonel muttered, to no one in particular, wandering about the place and prodding stuff he probably shouldn't, "What the hell's going on around here anyway? Place is buzzing like an overturned beehive." Nobody had an answer for him. Possibly they were still all trying to catch their breath. It had been a touchy business getting into the fortress, even though they'd had help from one of the Tok'ra's contacts, and it was going to be even touchier getting out.

"I just found another body," Carter called out, from one of the back rooms, "Female again."

"Take a DNA sample," Jacob called out, pre-empting Malek's own thought.

_I don't like this one bit, _Darin voiced to him, uneasily.

_Neither do I, _he admitted, _Something very strange is going on, and I cannot crack the encryption on these notes…_

"Major Carter," he said aloud, "Could you assist me please?"

"Sure," she hurried over and quickly assessed the problem. "Oh, I think I've seen this before…" she murmured, almost to herself.

_I have to admit, she is rather proficient at these things, _Malek commented to Darin.

"Ewww gross!" That was O'Neill, who had been poking around in one of the rooms.

"What?" called Daniel from the doorway. He was watching out for Teal'c, who was reconnoitering around their location.

"Dead snakes," said O'Neill. Malek glanced over his shoulder to see him prodding one with the toe of his boot.

"It looks sick," he noted, frowning, "We should take some of these for samples too." O'Neill shot him a no-way-am-I-touching-that look.

"**Seriously?**"

"I'll get it," Jacob said, pulling out a stasis jar. The Colonel carried on nosing about.

"Hey what's this? Mal?" Malek wandered over, to see Jack pressing buttons on an ornate, raised covered bowl of –

"Don't!" he shouted in alarm, grabbing O'Neill's arm as all the naquadah in his blood started buzzing. "Goa'uld symbiotes," he explained, hastily letting go of the glaring Colonel's arm, "Live ones."

"Nice," was Jack's laconic reply, although he had the sense to move out of the way. "Carter! How's it coming?"

"Think I've nearly got it," she called back, and Malek hurried back to download as much data as he could.

"Well hurry up! I want to get out of here!"

"Anyone any idea where those hok'taur are supposed to be?" Daniel wondered out loud. "Because we haven't seen any live ones. Do you think we're too late?" Before anyone could reply, their com clicked into life.

"O'Neill, there is a large contingent of Jaffa headed in your direction," warned Teal'c.

"Okay, get back here. We're leaving. Now." No one was prepared to argue with him on that point. Teal'c ran into the room just as a klaxon started blaring out.

"Now what?" demanded Jack.

"I don't know but my guess would be trouble," Jacob replied, as they hastily grabbed their things and made for the exit.

An hour later, they were hunkered down in deep forest a mile or so outside the citadel.

"Well, this isn't exactly going to plan," Colonel O'Neill commented, with, Malek had to admit, a fully justified amount of sarcasm.

"I realise this looks bad, Jack," Jacob began, before being interruped by a very irate O'Neill.

"Bad? Let's recap, shall we? In between your last batch of so-called intel, and our arrival, Baal appears to have invited every Jaffa in the sector round for a party, and we're the surprise guests. We nearly get our asses shot escaping from that goddamned fortress, **without** any of the hockey humans we came for, and now we're stuck here. The area between us and the fortress is crawling with Jaffa. To make matters worse, the area between here and the gate is crawling with Jaffa, and the gate itself is probably heavily guarded by, you guessed it, Jaffa. Oh yes, and the area between us and our tel'tak is and, I'll admit I'm taking a **wild** leap of speculation here, because I don't actually know, crawling with Jaffa."

"Jack, I'm sorry, but you've got to admit it doesn't make sense as to why there would be so many of them out searching the area unless they were looking for someone else before we got here."

"Does anyone else not think it unusual that Baal made an announcement about his new Goa'uld Queen, and yet we did not see her?" Malek added. It had been puzzling him ever since.

"Who cares?" Jack groused, "She was probably in the bathroom putting on makeup with a trowel or whatever Goa'uld queens spend ages doing before they conquer the galaxy."

"Sir, the tel'tak's at least cloaked, so hopefully they haven't found it yet."

"Agreed, Carter, and the longer we wait the slimmer that chance gets. Let's move out." Malek and Jacob exchanged a meaningful look.

"What?" asked Daniel, not missing it. Jacob sighed.

"We were to destroy the Goa'uld queen if Baal had indeed succeeded in finding one, and we could not capture her."

"Wait a minute, what about the host?"

"Yeh, and what happened to **not **assassinating System Lords because of tipping the balance of power, yadda?" O'Neill demanded.

"She wouldn't be a System Lord, Jack, she'd be subservient to Baal, at least initially, and at this stage, with the Goa'uld population in such drastic decline, it's more important to ensure that new larvae aren't spawned. And I'm sorry Dr Jackson, much as we would have tried to rescue the host, we couldn't make that the top priority."

"Ya see, that's the kind of information it would have been nice to know before we started," O'Neill waved a finger accusingly. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now, because this mission is officially **cancelled**_. _Come on, let's try and make it back to the tel'tak."

* * *

Their luck was turning from bad to worse, Malek couldn't help but think, as they finally reached the small clearing where they had hidden the tel'tak, which was now decloaked, and the whole area swarming with Jaffa. After a fierce gunfight they had actually managed to break through and board the small craft, but it was damaged by staff weapons fire as they took off, rendering the cloak inoperable, and now death gliders were swooping in to the attack.

"Folks, this is **not** going to plan!" the Colonel declared, struggling to dodge gliders and return fire, whilst Jacob/Selmak tried to re-route smoking crystals in the control panel. "I could use some good news here!"

"We can give you none," was Selmak's curt response, and then they all fell to the floor as the tel'tak took a direct hit.

"Okay, now I have no engines."

"We should try and land away from the citadel," Teal'c advised.

"Yeh, I said **no** engines, Teal'c, right now I'm aiming for any sort of landing that isn't a crash."

"Can we reach the stargate?" Jacob asked.

"At our present course and speed we are probably going to **hit **the stargate, Jacob."

"No good sir, we haven't got dialling control here either," said Carter, "We're going to have to try and make it to the gate on foot."

"Hey, there's about a thousand Jaffa down there, I'm bound to squish a few of them when we land."

"We should – " Teal'c began, but was cut off by O'Neill's urgent,

"Brace for impact!" and moments later they ploughed into the ground before the Stargate, scattering Jaffa and throwing up earth.

"Everybody out!" bellowed O'Neill, before anybody had even picked themselves up, "Teal'c, Carter, take point! Daniel get to that dialling device and Jacob, you cover. Malek, you are and I are clearing a way to the gate."

They scattered hastily from the craft into a veritable firestorm. The Jaffa on the ground had been surprised by the sudden crash-landing, but were swift to regroup. The only factors in their favour were some cover provided by standing stones and the fact that the death gliders had called off their assault.

Malek worked with grim efficiency to carve a way through the enemy towards the stargate with O'Neill, dodging from stone to stone and knowing that their only hope was speed, because more Jaffa would arrive at any moment. Darin was a quiet presence in his mind, frightened – too many bad memories of being pursued by Jaffa – but trying to be helpful nonetheless.

Daniel made it to the dialling device and began to punch symbols, and he dared to hope. They were almost at the gate; Teal'c and Carter were holding an escape corridor open with them, and Jacob was at their six, laying down covering fire for Daniel. They would make it, they would make it, just a little more time.

The wormhole blossomed into welcome life, and they started to fall back, but a contingent of Jaffa had Jacob pinned down by a standing stone, and he couldn't move position. Teal'c and Carter automatically repositioned to supply more cover fire, but it wasn't going to be enough. Malek ran desperately back from the gate to help, when a sudden noise and commotion caused everyone to stare in astonishment as a magnificent grey horse charged into the clearing, complete with ill-balanced Goa'uld on top. The Jaffa spun around in astonished confusion, not sure what to do next, as Baal's errant queen hurtled headlong into the fray on her lord's charger shooting wildly from a staff, in the process taking down the Jaffa that had been about to dispatch Jacob/Selmak. The frightened horse stopped dead and flung its rider over its neck, and Malek darted forward to grab Jacob before he got trampled or shot. Jacob managed to scramble hastily to his feet, even retaining the presence of mind to catch the horse's reins before it bolted.

"Jacob!" Malek bellowed as he skittered to their side.

"We're fine," Jacob yelled back, still struggling with the reins. "Give us a hand here!" There was a brief lull in the attack, the Jaffa unsure what to do, and they took full advantage of it. The woman, the queen, lay in the dust, murmuring incomprehensibly, blood streaking her face from her nose and ears.

"The Goa'uld is gone!" Selmak declared, astonished, as he knelt beside her, tilting her head.

_Gone? _Malek thought, incredulously, but there was no time.

"Quick! Pass her up to me! Then go!" Selmak urged, swinging onto the horse, and he hastened to do just that. She was a light weight in his arms; only the faintest residual tinge of naquadah in her blood sounding against his own. The Jaffa were yelling again. He took wild potshots whilst he ran ahead, to the gate where O'Neill was yelling at them and shooting over their heads.

They dived through together and then rolled hastily out the way as Selmak charged the horse straight through and landed with a thunderous clatter upon the ramp.

"Close the iris! Close that iris!" someone was yelling, then it closed, and Selmak was trying to stop the frightened, exhausted horse from turning in circles and kicking, not helped by the loud chaos around.

_Take the reins, _Darin prompted him, and, warily, he stepped forward and managed it. The woman had passed out.

General Hammond rushed into the gateroom.

"Hi George," Jacob greeted him breathlessly, grinning like a madman. General Hammond puffed out his cheeks, shaking his head.

"Heck of an entrance there Jacob. You – " and he glared at everyone in a way that made their collective hearts sink, "Have some explaining to do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

"Well, what do we have so far?" General Hammond asked a few hours later, when they were all seated in the briefing room, "Apart from horse manure in the gateroom, that is."

"Well, all the detail is in the very thorough report I am drafting, but basically, sir, the mission was a total write-off," O'Neill supplied with his usual succinct sarcasm, "All hell was already breaking loose when we got there. Baal had apparently invited everyone in the galaxy around for some big show-off party, and the guest of honour had gone AWOL."

"The guest of honour being?" Hammond queried patiently,

"His queen, the hockey lady I guess," Jack shrugged, "It's her horse, by the way, ergo her horse shit."

"It took some time to, er, find somewhere suitable for the animal," Carter supplied.

"Anyway," Jack continued, "We couldn't even get into the citadel. Whole place was in lockdown with Jaffa running around everywhere and Ball throwing a hissy fit about it all. We didn't get any intel and we didn't rescue any humans, or even see any, until this crazy lady charges in on the horse whilst we were trying to get through the gate."

"What happened to the tel'tak?"

"Ah well, it was insured, right sir?" Hammond sighed.

"It was ours, anyway," Malek spoke up, glumly, "And I am already in enough trouble over the last one."

"Wasn't that technically Darin?" O'Neill queried, curious. Malek shot him a look.

"Technically, Garshaw isn't too particular."

"So did we find anything out at all?"

"Jacob was able to make contact with the Jaffa who had originally passed on the information," Malek supplied quickly, deciding he didn't need two commanders mad at him. "He told me all the humans Baal had taken had died. Some were initially revived by the sarchophagus, but not recently. It seems Baal's plans were not coming to fruition.

I was able to access some of Baal's research data through a remote terminal, but was only able to gain limited information from that before his security systems locked me out completely. I can tell you that it is certain that he has been experimenting upon his human subjects. Possibly they were hok'taurs of some description; I could not confirm that. He was also planning on obtaining larvae from a queen. Whether he already had a queen under his dominion or allied to him, I do not know, but it seems likely given that this woman had been announced as his new queen publicly."

"So he **did** choose a hok'taur to host his queen?" Daniel asked, frowning. "I thought we agreed that he wouldn't want to do that?"

"I do not know," Malek admitted, "I cannot imagine why he would risk giving her a host of such power, unless she was in a position to demand it of him. And yet it is apparent that this woman is unique in at least one way: she somehow overcame the Goa'uld and it left her. I know of no instance of this occurring. No ordinary human should have been able to do that." He disliked pointing that out; it was always an uncomfortable reminder for the twitchy Tau'ri that their Tok'ra allies **could**_, _if they chose, suppress their hosts as effectively as any Goa'uld. Too many of them seemed to have the sneaking suspicion that **could **might mean **would**_. _

"What about our guest then?"

"She's still unconscious in the infirmary," O'Neill replied, "Doc Frasier said she should make a good recovery. Apparently, the snaky bastard screwed her brain up a bit on the way out, but they're able to fix the damage. Actually," he admitted, "Jacob and Selmak are fixing it with one of those healing doohickeys."

"I've managed to find out her identity relatively easy," Daniel spoke up, going to the computer to flash up a few photos on the screen, "Her name is Dr Eleanor Stewart; native to England, aged 32, both parents retired, of Afro-Caribbean descent on her maternal grandmother's side…older and younger brothers." The photos showed a smiling, youthful woman with dark hair and coffee-coloured skin, almond-shaped eyes of a deep, rich brown. "She studied Natural Sciences at Queen's College, Cambridge University, specialising in evolutionary biology. Did her doctorate at University College London, and did a brief stint as a postdoc at Princeton here in the States before taking up a junior fellowship back in Cambridge. Noted for her courteous if quiet demeanour; well-liked. Apart from her obvious intellectual abilities there is unsurprisingly no mention of special powers, for want of a better description. Nothing unusual at all, or anything to suggest it. No sporting prowess for instance."

"Does she know how to ride a horse?" Carter asked, staring thoughtfully at the screen. Daniel blinked.

"Good question. I didn't pick up any mention of horse-riding as a hobby. She's been missing for over two months. Didn't show up to work one day; turned out she'd never got home the night before although witnesses had seen her on her bicycle. There's been a big police appeal to find her. We should really contact her family, I mean, they must be going crazy, and she's surely going to need some emotional support when she wakes up."

"Yes, of course, I'll get on to it," Hammond agreed, although he sighed heavily, "Though lord only knows what I'll tell them." There was a polite knock at the door. "Come," Hammond added, rubbing his forehead.

"Sir," an aide saluted him, "Doctor Frasier wishes you to know that her patient is coming round."

"Well, let's go see her then. Maybe **she **can tell us how she did it."

* * *

Jacob/Selmak were just switching off the healing device when they entered the infirmary, Dr Frasier checking monitors beside them. She waved at them to wait back a moment. The woman lying in the bed stirred fitfully, a frown creasing her features. She looked young; younger even than she actually was, Malek reflected, although in Darin's opinion his symbiote's perception of age was coloured by his own longevity, and the increased lifespan accorded to Tok'ra hosts that he was accustomed to. Dark eyes flickered open, drowsily, then in sudden panic, and she scrambled back and hit the headboard with an audible thud, hands raised in front of her face. Jacob/Selmak stepped prudently back; doubtless the last thing she'd want to see right now was what she would probably assume to be a Goa'uld.

"Easy there, take it easy," Frasier was reassuring her, "You're safe now." The arms lowered cautiously; there was a tremor in the left hand, they noted. The darting eyes refocused on Frasier and the generous mouth worked awkwardly for a moment.

"You're American," she said at last, in a surprisingly rich voice. That cracked. Janet smiled.

"I'm Dr Frasier. You're in a base of the US Air Force. One of our teams brought you through the Stargate. I realise this is probably confusing…"

"Thank **god!"** came the heartfelt exclamation, then she suddenly looked abashed. "Excuse me. I didn't, ah. Well, I didn't think I'd make it back to Earth at all."

"How are you feeling?" Frasier offered her a glass of water.

"Much better, thank you," came the more mannerly response, "I didn't think I'd be able to talk properly again. I thought I'd had a stroke or something when er…" A brief, pained expression crossed her face, and she brought the trembling hand up again.

"In a sense you did," Frasier rescued her, glancing at Jacob, "The Goa'uld that infested you caused some damage on its way out, but we've managed to fix most of it. The hand should improve."

"I'm surprised it's not more permanent," she commented shrewdly, following Frasier's glance at the Tok'ra.

"Jacob was able to use a Goa'uld healing device to repair some of the damage." Frasier clearly decided not to mention Selmak.

"I see," nodding her head, "Thank you." She offered her hand to shake, and Jacob took it, gingerly, possibly worried she'd detect Selmak. Another frown. "I remember you. You're the bloke…" she trailed off, confused, then added, sounding almost embarrassed, "Actually, I don't remember much at all. I think I was, ah, hallucinating."

"I should thank you," Jacob replied, clearly trying to be at his most charming, "You saved us from a staff blast."

"I did?" A sudden frown, "Hang on – 'us?' And how can a human use a Goa'uld device?" _She's quick, _Darin noted.

"Ah, well, this may be a bit much right now…" The eyes narrowed.

"Try me." Jacob cocked his head on one side; a habit of Selmak's that he'd acquired.

"I have a symbiote," he said simply, "Not like the one that you had the misfortune to encounter. There is a subset of the Goa'uld called the Tok'ra; a resistance group formed against the System Lords that oppose them morally and philosophically, in every way. The hosts share their body in a voluntary agreement; it is a true symbiosis, not a takeover." Stewart's face was hard and void of expression. "My symbiote, Selmak, did most of the work fixing you up, actually."

"This is a lot to take in," Frasier interjected, before Jacob got warmed up to his subject, or her patient completely freaked out.

"Sounds like a perfectly civilised arrangement to me," Stewart muttered, and, with a clear effort, held out her hand again, gaze steady. "Then I thank him also." Jacob evidently decided to chance it, for in the next moment his head dipped and it was Selmak who took the proffered hand briefly.

"It is our pleasure Dr Stewart, and I must also offer you our thanks for aiding us against Baal's Jaffa."

"Don't mention it." Selmak stepped back a little, briefly confused. Dr Stewart looked, understandably, completely overwhelmed, but surprised them with a shaky laugh.

"Trust my luck to pick up one of the lousy ones then huh?" A rueful grin.

"General Hammond, the base commander, and the rest of the team that brought you back, would like to speak to you about that for a few moments, if you're up to it," Frasier said softly.

"Uh sure…"

General Hammond and the others, who had been waiting patiently, entered the room and made introductions. She shook everyone's hands, including Malek and Darin's, though not without a little hesistancy.

"We know that Baal, the System Lord who kidnapped you, was taking particular humans for some purpose unknown to us," Hammond explained concisely, "Including, unfortunately, yourself. If you could tell us a bit about what happened to you after you were taken, that might prove very helpful, particularly anything about what he wanted with you and the others, and how you escaped the Goa'uld."

"He didn't exactly keep me up to speed on his plans for galactic domination," she replied dryly, "I don't know what he wanted. He had quite a few people there. I think they were all women. He was trying to er, implant them with symbiotes, but it kept going wrong."

"It kept going **wrong" **Jacob interrupted, earning himself a warning look from both Frasier and Hammond. Stewart rubbed her face, clearly trying to concentrate.

"They kept dying. The women. He – he revived some of them somehow and tried again. I think I was supposed to be the best chance for – for whatever. He seemed to think I had special powers or something. I tried to escape before but it didn't work and he caught me and – " She took a deep breath and tried again. "The – the Goa'uld that took me, she was supposed to be his – his queen, or something." A shudder of revulsion ran through her.

"Most Goa'uld can't reproduce themselves," Carter explained, "Only the queens can." A distracted frown appeared on Dr Stewart's face.

"A parasite with a queen system? How did **that** evolve?"

"So what happened?" Hammond asked, recognising a scientist about to fly off at a tangent when he saw one.

"We didn't die but we didn't do what we were supposed to. Something special, but I don't know what that was. She – the Goa'uld – she was confused too. Baal hadn't told her what he wanted and still didn't after she – she took over me. I fought – I – I don't really understand what happened." She ground to a halt, clearly fighting for self-control.

"Do you know how you overcame the Goa'uld?" Malek asked, as gently as he could; he and Darin were filled with both sympathy and respect for her. She looked bewildered.

"No. I just kept trying. She thought it was pointless to fight and it felt pointless to fight but I didn't believe her that nobody could do it and – " Another breath, more steadily, "I think she got sick or something but she didn't understand it either and couldn't believe it when I finally – when I finally overcame her."

"How did you get away from Baal?" Hammond again.

"She liked to ride, and Baal indulged her in that, so I took the horse on the pretence of going for a ride and just kept going into the forest. I didn't know what to do. I felt I was going insane. It was like she was ransacking my mind for anything she could use. I kept reciting stuff to keep myself focussed."

"Such as?"

"God, anything. Poetry, mostly, songs, stuff I'd read and memorised. Things with a rhythm to them. Nursery rhymes, in the end. I could barely keep control, and then she panicked and just – just – I passed out. When I woke up she was lying on the ground dead beside me." She gulped down the rest of the water.

"Er, this is a bit of a strange question," Carter put in, "But do you have any special abilities that may explain this?" Dr Stewart stared blankly at her.

"Well, like exceptional strength, or telepathy, for example, or being able to move objects without touching them."

"I can barely move my own hand!" came the spluttered reply, "Telepathy?! You've got to be kidding me. Aliens, fine, wormholes, okay, but telepathy?!"

"Nothing we haven't seen before," O'Neill said dryly.

"Bloody hellfire. This is ridiculous."

"Yes, if we could get back to what happened next," Hammond prompted. She sighed, rubbing her face again.

"I couldn't move properly at first. I couldn't talk, but I kept trying. Eventually I managed to get back up on the horse. I didn't know where to go but I just thought to get as far away as possible. I remembered, vaguely, about the Stargate from what the Goa'uld knew. I didn't know if I'd be able to get through it before someone realised it wasn't her anymore. I didn't even know any coordinates to dial. But then I heard automatic weapons fire, so I went to investigate. None of the Jaffa had anything like that. I couldn't believe anybody from Earth was there, but then again, **I**was, and I thought that if whoever it was was against Baal, then they might be willing to help me."

"It must have been pretty confusing when you saw us out there," Daniel commented, "Not to mention the Tok'ra. How did you know they weren't Goa'uld?" She shook her head, although it wasn't clear if it was in negation or confusion.

"I don't think I did. I barely remember anything coherent from that," she admitted, "I was hallucinating badly. Felt like I had a fever. It was taking everything I had just to stay on the horse, I had to keep reciting stuff again, and – and what the hell are you **doing** out in space anyway? What's going on? How do I know this is even **real**?" Her voice had risen and it was clear she was teetering on the edge of hysteria.

"It's a long story," Hammond reassured her, "We'll explain everything later but I think you should rest for now." She began to struggle up.

"I have to – " she protested, "My family…god, my poor parents they must think I'm **dead**."

"We're contacting them," said Frasier, urging her to lie back down again, "We'll explain everything." An overwrought laugh.

"Everything? This has got be classified. I don't know what I'm going to tell everyone." She brought her hands to her face again. The left was shaking badly, and the right was none too steady either.

"I think Dr Stewart needs to rest now," Frasier addressed everyone else, in her best, no-nonsense tone, and hustled them out.

* * *

Dr Stewart provided them with a more thorough and coherent report over the next few days, but, as Jacob noted, it hardly illuminated matters: neither how she had overcome the Goa'uld, nor what Baal wanted with the humans, nor even whether they were genuinely hok'taur. It was vexing, to say the least, but not unexpected. The Tok'ra were due to return to their base, and stopped by the infirmary one last time. Dr Stewart wasn't there, however. They found her working with Sam on the computer. She was much improved from her earlier state, although she still looked wan and tired.

"Dr Stewart," Jacob said, "We have to take our leave shortly. We were wondering whether you might have had any more insights into how you escaped." The rueful grin returned.

"I'm afraid not. We've been doing a little research here, but it's led nowhere so far."

"We looked for the genetic markers known to confer resistance that are present in some populations of humans, like Aris Boch's people for example, but she doesn't have any, so we're up against a wall." Jacob shared a glance with Malek then turned to Sam.

"Well, never mind. Want to take a walk for moment kiddo, see your old man off?"

"Sure." They left, but Malek/Darin lingered.

"How are you feeling?" Darin ventured. They both suspected she might be more comfortable talking to him than to Malek. She scowled a little.

"I'm pretty fed up of people asking me that." She raised a hand in brief apology; the tremor was almost gone, they noted. "Well, I've stopped waiting to wake up and discover the past two months have been a dream anyway."

"What will you do now?" She shrugged.

"Go home I guess. I think my poor family would like me around for a bit, although it's a bit crazy trying to calm down the media storm over there. I think they settled for some lame cover story about my having an accident, getting amnesiaand disappearing." She sighed. "I was thinking about trying to do some more research here," she added, sounding unsure, "But it's going to take me a while to get up to speed on everything. There is some seriously cool tech in this lab." Darin smiled faintly.

"It may not necessarily be that useful even if we did find what made you resistant to the Goa'uld," he ventured, "It seems doubtful that we'd be able to find a way of utilising it to make other humans resistant, after all."

"I know," she admitted, "But I'd like to know the reason. Not knowing is really quite annoying." She paused thoughtfully, glancing up at him briefly. "You know," she said at last, "The queen…she told me that it wasn't possible for a human host to overcome a Goa'uld. I didn't believe her. I thought that, if I were her, I'd say that if it were true or not, in order to undermine any resistance in my host. She wasn't used to hosts that resisted at all, that was for sure. She believed it was true." Another laugh. "Then again, I wouldn't have believed her if she said the sea was wet. Just on principle."

"Perhaps," Darin ventured, "You survived because you're strong." She laughed, but she was shaking her head.

"It would be nice to believe that," she answered, a sad smile on her face, "It's a nice story, isn't it? But it doesn't work like that. I've looked over some of the data on the Goa'uld, and I know that, for very sound biological reasons, it's just not possible. Not with a mature symbiote." Darin made no reply to that.

"Well, is it?" she asked directly. Malek took over to reply.

"It should not be, no," he said frankly, "Nevertheless, you did."

"Then there **must**," she insisted, "Be a biological reason for it."

"Spoken like a true scientist," he smiled a little. "If I may offer you some advice, I would not become too preoccupied with it. Of all the thousands of hosts that the Goa'uld have taken, it stands to reason that one will occasionally be unsuccessful; by chance alone there are a number of factors, genetic or otherwise, that could cause problems."

"Are you saying I'm just **lucky**?" Malek wasn't sure how to respond to that. She rubbed her face tiredly.

"I guess I'll go home then."

"As will we." He hesitated awkwardly, "If you experience any…problems or side-effects that the staff here are unable to help you with, we may be able to do so. Please feel free to ask them to contact us if that is the case, or if, indeed, you have any success with your researches." He bid her farewell then, courteously inclining his head, and hastened to rejoin Jacob/Selmak in the gateroom.

"Anything?" Jacob asked, and he shook his head.

"It remains a mystery."

"Poor kid," was Jacob's concise analysis, as the gate swooshed open, "Still, I've got to hand it to her, she was a lot more together than some ex-hosts I've seen. Hopefully she'll be okay."

**End of Part 1.**


	5. Chapter 5

**PART 2**

'The true biologist deals with life, with teeming boisterous life, and learns something from it, learns that the first rule of life is living.' (John Steinbeck & Ed Ricketts, The Log from the Sea of Cortez).

'Evolution is an error that errs' (Stanislaw Lem, Imaginary Magnitude).

--------

**Chapter 5.**

It was less than three months later that General Hammond had some unexpected news for SG1 at the end of their debriefing meeting.

"I received a call from Dr Stewart yesterday afternoon, regarding the possibility of her returning here for a little while."

"Eleanor? How is she?" Sam asked at once.

"I believe she is well, although her mother had contacted me only a week ago to say she'd had some sort of epileptic fit. Seems to have been a one-off though. Anyway, she says she's come up with an idea as to how she may have overcome the goa'uld, and she'd like to continue her research here, with the aid of the Tok'ra."

"Sounds like it could be interesting," Sam offered, "And she's certainly a qualified biologist, so maybe she's really onto something."

"I certainly hope so," Hammond replied, "Anyway, it can't hurt to give it a try. I'm going to send a message to the Tok'ra tonight, see if they can spare us anyone."

* * *

Malek became aware of someone loitering by his office entrance again, and was about to treat them to a prize glare, when he realised that it was Jacob/Selmak.

"Fancy another trip to the Tau'ri?" asked Jacob, smiling at him.

_Not really, _Malek opined privately to Darin, who thought that was funny.

"Concerning what?" he asked instead, cautiously.

"Apparently Dr Stewart – you remember, the one we rescued from Baal – has got a theory as to how she overcame the goa'uld and wants some help researching her ideas."

"Really?" He frowned. "Did anything further come of our investigations into Baal?" Jacob made a face, but it was Selmak who replied.

"Unfortunately not. The agent we tried to get embedded into his court had her cover blown by one of the slaves who was working as an informant for us: she barely escaped with her life. Baal has regrettably become quite security-conscious lately. We have not given up, however: the High Council's authorised another fact-finding mission, and we'll take any further action necessary. In the meantime, it's certainly worth checking out Dr Stewart's idea."

"I agree," nodded Malek, "Are you coming as well?" Jacob took over again to reply.

"Afraid not; as much as I'd like to see Sam we've got our hands full here. Anise is at a bit of a loose end at the moment though, and expressed an interest." Now it was Malek's turn to make a face.

"Then we will have our hands full as well," he muttered, though good-naturedly. Jacob grinned at him.

"Have fun!"

* * *

So it was that Darin/Malek, accompanied by Freya/Anise, found themselves back on the Tau'ri homeworld. Dr Stewart was waiting for them in the gateroom. She looked considerably better than the last time they had seen her, albeit still rather tired-appearing. She was also fidgeting, and greeted them rather nervously, they thought.

_She was commendably open-minded about the Tok'ra when we met, _Malek thought to his host, _Nevertheless I suspect she is understandably a little uncomfortable around us._

_I'm not sure that's it, _Darin replied, in rare disagreement, _Rather she appears to be containing her excitement. I think she's definitely found something out._

_Or thinks she has._

They repaired to their assigned laboratory space without delay.

"General Hammond reported that you believed you understood how it was that you overcame the Goa'uld," Freya commented, as they unloaded boxes of equipment.

"Er, yes, well, sort of," Eleanor replied, looking flustered. "Well, that is I have an idea."

"Which is?" There was a rather awkward pause.

"I think I'd like to just check a few preliminary things before I go into detail," she temporised, glancing at Malek as if appealing for support.

"What things?"

"Er, well, I think that actually there are some genetic markers I need to look for in the symbiote genome before I go back to the human one."

"We cannot help if we do not know what we are looking for," Anise pointed out bluntly, clearly causing Eleanor to jump at the sound of her flanged voice.

"I know that, and I don't want to waste your time, honestly. I think it's something to do with cross-talk between symbiote and host connections resulting in a rare immune effect. I appreciate that's pretty vague; that's why I just want to check a few things first to see if the idea's a non-starter."

"I see," Anise responded at last, clearly not seeing at all. Neither did Malek, come to think of it, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was Darin's opinion that she was just a little unsure of herself, or her theory, at least, to want to go out on a limb with it straightaway, and Darin was usually right about people.

"Why don't you show us what you want to look at first?" he asked, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Okay, great, I've got it all written down here…"

* * *

"I don't like it, T," was Jack's opinion, expressed with a thumb jerked in the general direction of the bio lab. On downtime and bored, he'd recruited the stoic Jaffa to come and find Daniel and Sam with him, both of whom had mysteriously disappeared, and found them with their heads down over something in the laboratory with the Tok'ra and Dr Stewart.

"They do appear to be most engrossed in what they are doing," was Teal'c's more dispassionate observation.

"Yeh, well, they better not be causing trouble. Stewart's had enough grief with the goa'uld lately, you'd think the last thing she'd want to do is hang around with a bunch of snakeheads."

"On the contrary, O'Neill, Major Carter informs me that they work well together." General Hammond chose that moment to come down the corridor, no doubt in search of his flagship team.

"Sir!" O'Neill seized his chance, "We have a situation here, sir." Hammond glanced through the lab window, puzzled.

"What situation?"

"I'm counting no less than five scientists in one room at the same time, sir, and two of them are Sam and Daniel. Permission to separate them." Hammond shot him an exasperated look.

"They tell me they're making progress," he said.

"I'll bet," was Jack's observation, but have they told you **what **progress?" Judging by the General's frown, he'd scored his point.

Spotting them through the window, Sam waved and she and Daniel came out of the lab to say hello.

"How's it going Carter?" asked Jack.

"Oh, I think pretty well, sir." Sam's usual enthusiasm was at the forefront today. "Eleanor has some really interesting ideas about the immunological interactions between host and symbiote that we've never really considered before."

"And that tells us what?" Hammond wanted to know.

"Er, well, not much yet, but I think it's very promising."

"All right Major I'll take your word for it, but I'd like something a little more concrete sooner rather than later. Anyway, Teal'c, Dr Jackson: SG3 could use your help with some diplomatic translations so if you'd come with me…." They wandered off, leaving O'Neill and Carter outside the lab.

"Sir?" Carter questioned, watching O'Neill watch the Tok'ra.

"I don't like it Carter," he said, jabbing a finger in their general direction. "They're up to something." Sam resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

"Actually they're being quite helpful, even if Anise is being her usual abrupt self."

"And that doesn't bother her?"

"Not so far as I can see, sir. Eleanor seems to have come out of the whole experience remarkably well, considering."

"She talk to you about that at all?" It was a personal question, but his tone was softer, as it was when he was genuinely concerned. Sam looked down, briefly embarrassed.

"A little, sir. We get along quite well, and I guess she feels my experience with Jolinar means I understand more than most do. She said that it helps that she did escape the goa'uld herself in the end: I think from that point of view she doesn't have quite the sense of helplessness and loss of control that we've seen in other former hosts." In the lab, Malek and Eleanor suddenly bent over to look at something at the same time, and bumped heads. Sam grinned. "Actually, I think she's talked to Malek and Darin more than me." Jack's eyes narrowed.

"I don't like the way he's sniffing around her. Don't get me wrong, as Tok'ra go, Mal's…all right. But she could do without that at this time don't you think?" Sam was still grinning.

"Oh I don't know sir, they seem quite friendly when they're not, uh, knocking heads over little scientific disagreements." Jack gave her the look that awful joke deserved.

"Huh."

"I don't think his motives are sinister, sir."

"Maybe not Carter, but I don't think they're entirely pure either."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

Three weeks after they began, they were still working at it, although both Malek and Anise were still somewhat in the dark as to what exactly it was they were looking for. Dr Stewart, by contrast, was getting more animated and confident with every new piece of information, and the result of every simulation. Malek wasn't even sure what they were simulating, except that it involved a lot of feedback loops, and he still couldn't see the connection between the genetic data she'd been poring over, and the immunology. She asked for all sorts of information; Goa'uld history, life cycles, anatomy; even data on Unas. They cooperated as far as it went, and certainly they worked well together; he could happily claim to enjoying her company, more than perhaps he should, truth be told, but Anise in particular was getting impatient.

He came in early one morning, whilst Freya/Anise were off talking to Dr Jackson, to find her still hard at work on the computer, noting that by now she was comfortable enough with his presence that she didn't even look up when he came in. The first few days she'd jumped whenever the door opened.

"Pulling what I believe are called 'all-nighters' is not actually a very productive way for the human mind to work," he pointed out, teasing a little, and then she did look up, and smiled at him, as she always did now.

"Oh, hello. Actually, I haven't been here all night; I just got up early."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that," came the evasive response, and he felt a twinge of concern.

"Are you experiencing…interrupted sleep?" he asked, diffidently. She rubbed a hand over her face, an absent gesture.

"As in interrupted by nightmares?" she said, dryly, and he retreated, feeling unaccountably awkward.

"If you are, we may be able to help," Darin offered.

"That's sweet, but I'm okay. They're getting better….what are you smiling at?"

"Malek objects to being characterised as 'sweet'. It offends his dignity." _I do not! _Malek protested. She laughed at that, so Malek forgave him. _You're much better at this than I am, _he admitted to his host.

_You should stop feeling awkward. It seems pretty obvious that she's not uncomfortable with what you are. _Malek was doubtful about that.

_At this level of professional interaction, yes. In my experience, more personal matters tend to raise…issues. _A painful pang went through them at the unwanted resurfacing of more than one memory, which Malek apologised for, quietly.

_You think her prejudiced?_

_I'm not certain. However, you're convinced she's not so that's rather affected my judgement._

_You make it sound like you blended with an alcoholic drink!_

_Sorry. But still. You know how it works. We should, at least, tread carefully. She has only recently recovered from a horrendous experience, after all, and not entirely, at that._

"Hello? Earth to Malek and Darin, do you read?" He blinked.

"Sorry. We were…having a discussion."

"Must have been a very absorbing one." She looked curious. "Is that…how it works, if you don't mind my asking? I rather well thought you'd sort of…I don't know, know each other's thoughts anyway?"

"In a sense, that's true," Malek agreed, more comfortable now they were back on semi-technical ground, "However, whilst the accord between host and symbiote is a strong one, the blending might best be described as an intermingling of different substances…without those substances actually combining to form a new compound, if you see the distinction." She grinned.

"Are you trying to tell me you're a colloidal suspension of Malek and Darin?" He made a face.

"We retain our separate identities, although we share thoughts and feelings. When you are thinking of something, do you not 'voice' your thoughts to yourself in your mind, in language form?"

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"It is a way of making the abstract concrete, of processing things with the conscious mind, even if much of your actual processing is not done consciously. So it is with us; whilst we are aware of each other's thoughts, voicing them to each other in the form of an internal conversation gives clarity and substance to abstract meaning."

"I see. That makes sense, I guess. Thank you." He inclined his head. "The Goa'uld didn't exactly chat to me much, so it was hard to form a basis of comparison," she added, surprising him at this volunteering of information. She had been understandably reticent as to what it had actually been like for her.

"What was it you were trying to ask us?" he remembered, suddenly.

"Oh, right, yes. Did you recover any of the genetic data on the other humans Baal captured?"

"Some partial data," he admitted, "But I've already cross-referenced them and any matches appear essentially random."

"I'd like to take another look, if you don't mind."

"I don't, but I'd like to know if you're ever going to tell us what you're looking for." That caught her off-guard.

"Ah, well…"

"Why are you being so evasive?" he asked; not annoyed, just genuinely curious. She took a deep breath.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, but I thought before that if I said exactly what my idea was then you'd think I was completely crazy. I didn't exactly figure it out from the data, the idea sort of…well, came to me in a dream." He raised an eyebrow, and her shoulders slumped a little. "All right. I think it could be pretty important against the Goa'uld, but I didn't want to get your hopes up only to dash them again, not before I was a bit more certain." Before he could formulate a measured response to that, Darin decided to leap in.

"We've been getting our hopes up all week," he said, boldly, touching her on the back of the hand. She was so surprised she dropped the pad was holding; with symbiote-enhanced reflexes, he caught it.

"That was fast," she said, staring dumbly at it. _She's just remembered I'm not human, _was Malek's rather negative thought, _I'm sorry Darin. I'm a terrible encumbrance to your lovelife sometimes._

"I apologise if we are too forward," he said out loud, handing her back the padd, "We don't know Tau'ri customs in this regard." She made a visible effort to recollect her thoughts.

"What? Oh, er, no, not at all. I just didn't realise you….liked me." She was blushing furiously, which they found rather charming.

"Would you consider a relationship with us?"

"I uh…" She actually winced, and they were flooded with apprehension, "I would but…it's not that simple."

"I see," Malek replied stiffly, and her eyes suddenly widened.

"I didn't mean like that!" she clarified hastily, and with such evident mortification that they didn't doubt her sincerity, "It's not because of you. And it's not that there's…anyone else. It's just – there's potentially a lot of complications you're probably not aware of."

"Life is full of complications," Malek replied, "But short on opportunities. We have learned not to allow them to pass us by." She smiled then.

"Yes, I suppose that's wise, but you might want to reconsider all this when I get these results in."

"Which brings us back to what results, exactly?"

"Just get me that genetic data. I'll tell you everything this afternoon, I promise, if it pans out." He gave her a look. "And if it doesn't," she relented. She looked him steadily in the eyes. "Will you just…trust me on this?" He nodded slowly.

"Very well." It came out more solemn than he intended, and he smiled to lighten it. She smiled warmly in return, and he dared to hope, despite her caution.

* * *

It was actually quite late in the evening by the time the analysis was finished, and Freya/Anise were about ready to storm off back to the Tok'ra in frustration. However, when they entered the lab, one look at her excited face told them everything.

"You have a result," Anise stated, looking as though she might cross the room and shake it bodily out of her.

"Yes," she answered, waving them to seats, "Yes I do, and I really do apologise for keeping you in the dark for so long. It's just that – well, I needed to be sure. You'll understand why when I explain."

"I thought that was what you were going to do now?" Darin teased, and she flushed slightly.

"Yes, right, well, okay. If you could bear with me here and keep your questions for the end, there's a lot of background but there's a point to it." She took a deep breath, brought up a few presentation slides on the computer. "Right. Well, as I'm sure you're aware, the Goa'uld evolved from predacious aquatic ancestors several hundred thousand years ago, most probably in response to a radical climatic shift that dried up a lot of the freshwater on their home planet and eliminated most of their food sources. Because it's sheltered by its host, and derives nourishment from it, a parasite has a lot of advantages: it's protected from both the elements and other predators that might attack it, and it has a reliable food supply, at least until the host dies, but it's not all advantage.

"There are, in fact, two major problems that every parasite faces: the first is to avoid being attacked by the host's immune system, or at least counteract any effect. Most parasites are pretty adept at hiding from the immune system; the Goa'uld are unusual in that instead of hiding, they have managed to subvert the host's immune system entirely, and even enhance it so that their host does not suffer any other infections, parasitic or otherwise.

"The second problem is reproduction: the trouble with being encased in another organism, particularly if only one parasite is able to infect the host at a time, means that the chances of meeting other members of your own species are pretty much zero. For this reason, most parasites have more than one stage in their life cycle: they either have more than one type of host, or a free-living larval phase, for example in freshwater, where they are able to encounter new hosts, or both. Most parasites are also hermaphroditic for this very reason: they are able to self-fertilise their own eggs, and tend to produce them in vast numbers, to maximise the possibilities of infecting new hosts. This is still a sexual process, incidentally, because it involves the recombination of genetic material, and indeed this is thought to be necessary to provide the genetic variation needed in order for the parasite to continually evolve its defences against the host. The Goa'uld show all these features. What is really strange, however, something that I noticed from the start, is that only a very small subset of Goa'uld – the queens – are able to reproduce. From an evolutionary standpoint, this makes absolutely **no sense whatsoever**_. _I mean, frankly, it's amazing both that this system somehow evolved in the first place, and that the Goa'uld didn't go extinct ages ago.

"So, the question becomes this: how did this system evolve, and how have the Goa'uld managed to keep going so successfully? Well, from what I can tell from the fossil record and the data on the Unas, it appears that, during the transition from a predacious to a parasitic lifestyle, the Goa'uld evolved from a species with separate genders to one that was hermaphroditic, but initially I think it most probable that **all** Goa'uld were able to self-fertilise, and the origin of the queens was later. At this time they would have been in an evolutionary arms race with their hosts. This is known as the Red Queen hypothesis, after a character in a fantasy novel that states, apparently nonsensically: It takes all the running you can do, just to stay in the same place.

"As you are perhaps aware, a modern-day Unas has powerful healing abilities compared to humans, even when not infested with Goa'uld. It seems that there would have been enormous selective pressure on the Unas to mount an immunological response against the parasite, just as there would have been for the parasite to avoid or counteract it. It is my speculation – and I admit that it's just a speculation – that at some point during this contest, the Goa'uld gained the ability to subvert, and finally control completely, the host's immune system. They thus effectively counteracted problem number one: the immunological one. They would have developed the ability to very finely infiltrate and control certain neurological pathways in the host. But the host of course is always fighting back.

"At this point, bear in mind that the Goa'uld was a non-sentient being, simply living in the host; it wasn't **controlling **it. However, there is of course a selective advantage in being able to influence the host's behaviour, and many parasites do demonstrate this as well. In its simplest form it's usually just a drive, for example, to go to water, where more parasites can be spawned. The critical point came when both the Unas and the Goa'uld started evolving complex intelligence. Again, the Goa'uld came out on top, at least in the short-term; their rapid rate of reproduction and numbers compared to the slow-breeding, widely-dispersed Unas, meant a far faster rate of evolution, and there was even more selective pressure now since another wave of climatic upheaval was sweeping the planet. After this time point, you see in the fossil record something that is much closer to the modern Goa'uld – a sentient parasite that infiltrates the host neurologically and is able to control it.

"The Goa'uld were ultimately victims of their own success: they essentially outbred their hosts and there were not enough left. By the time they had reached beyond a rudimentary intelligence and had a certain level of technology, they were wiping themselves out along with their hosts. Incidentally, their evolutionary history is probably why the Goa'uld are not particularly altruistic amongst their own kind: they can only ever be rivals and social cooperation doesn't offer many benefits. The Goa'uld were likely now evolving the ability to retain genetic memory – probably initially simply as a way of remembering where the best places were to find more of their increasingly scarce hosts – and that, in concert with their ever-refining ability to manipulate the host's immune system, led them to the sophisticated genomic control we see today. This was giving them incremental advantages over their most important competitors – each other – but they were still heading towards extinction.

"Intelligence, however, can overcome many obstacles. The Unas had never had a chance to evolve to a sophisticated technological level, and, whilst the Goa'uld might have been able to, their asocial nature and dependence upon a dwindling supply of hosts made it impossible. It is at this point that some Goa'uld encountered what must have been as un-yet identified species that **had** reached a sophisticated level of technology. They were sufficiently similar, and the Goa'uld by this time sufficiently able to manipulate their own genetic material, that some at least were able to be taken over as hosts by the Goa'uld. It is likely that the Goa'uld got most of their initial technology from this species – another species it appears likely they drove to extinction in their expansion across the galaxy. I realise such an approach seems self-defeating, but you have to remember that it is not survival of the species that natural selection operates on; it's at the level of the individual organism; it is a blind force, and it can't 'plan' for the long-term future, any more than gravity plans planets.

"I can only speculate, again, on the further evolutionary changes that took place during this time, but I think that a major one would have been shift towards the queen system, in which only a few Goa'uld were able to breed. It seems that only individuals with a certain genetic make-up were able to survive as adults in the new host species. It's surprising that any were at all; parasites in general are exquisitely adapted to their specific host species, and it's extremely hard to make the jump into a new species. Nevertheless, as with viruses or bacteria, it can and does occasionally happen, and it occasions a massive evolutionary drive. I think that during this time the Goa'uld partially adapted to the new host species by extending the larval phase. Reproduction would have occurred outside the host, probably in water again, which is why Goa'uld larvae are able to survive in the water quite well. Once again, though, this adaptation started to drive both species towards extinction. The Goa'uld were poorly suited to this new species, and the hosts were suffering under what wasn't simply a straightforward parasitic infection, but one that subverted their entire species and social structure, and, ultimately, decimated it.

"Finally, we know that Ra and a subset of the Goa'uld fled the collapse of the first Goa'uld spacefaring dynasty and chanced upon humans, on Earth, already plentiful in number. They had by this time a number of technological assists to their own evolution; they were able for example to breed the Jaffa to incubate the larval phase of their lifecycle. This both meant that, for the first time, they had evolved – with artificial assistance – to infest hosts of two different species at different stages of their lifecycle, and addionally improved the chances of successfully infecting a human host as an adult: I gather that before the Jaffa were developed, the chances were only 50%.

"Those odds are still abnormally high, considering that humans were not then the natural hosts, and can only be explained by another major evolutionary shift: in this instance, a process called neoteny, a developmental retardation that's been documented in other species before. Put simply, they grew to adulthood whilst still retaining a juvenile form, massively improving their success at infecting humans. What this amounted to was eliminating a final metamorphosis from their life-cycle to a mature adult – the catch being that it was only during this last metamorphosis that the sexual organs developed, and as yet, that event hasn't been shifted earlier.

"The subset of Goa'uld that made it to Earth would have been very few, and the pool of available genetic variation thus very limited. Of this subset, even fewer must have been able to retain the full life-cyle and still undergo the final metamorphosis: these became the queens. They were able to produce more queens themselves, but seldom did so, for obvious reasons; again, purely self-interested ones – they did not want to breed too many rivals, but they did need to breed some to keep control of their Jaffa armies – something that had arisen as a consequence of their now having two different hosts. Before, their slave armies could only have been composed of the host species for the adults, which would have limited the available pool of hosts, since Goa'uld do not exactly make good slaves for each other, and their loyalty could not have been assured, as the Jaffa's was. This explains the massive militaristic expansion of the Goa'uld and the rise of the System Lords – before, it simply wasn't possible for them to have such a hierarchical society, with a massive population of human and Jaffa slaves at the base of this pyramid.

"It also explains why the Goa'uld haven't totally exploded throughout the human population: because the vast majority of them now could not breed, it massively reduced their rate of reproduction, and it slowed the rate of population growth to limits which were within tolerance of the host's capacity to reproduce themselves. Additionally, the discovery of the sarcophagus enabled the Goa'uld to artifically extend their lifespans and reduce the selective pressure to reproduce, also unfortunately having unintended consequences on their genetic memory and psychological make-up to make them the true power-hungry despots we are afflicted with now. The situation has more or less been a steady state, with slow population growth of the Goa'uld linked to slow growth of the human population, for the past five thousand years or so.

"If I understand correctly, it is only recently that the Goa'uld have shown zero population growth. This is because most, if not all, of the queens have been eliminated, as the Goa'uld once again act in individual self-interest above that of the species. I shouldn't criticise, it's not like humans don't do that too, but you'd think **somebody **would have noticed."

"This is all very interesting," Anise commented, "But I'm not sure where it's getting us."

"I'm nearly there. I said that nobody appears to have noticed that the Goa'uld are driving themselves to extinction, but that's not quite true: Baal noticed, although I doubt he **cares **for his own species, per se. I'm guessing that due to the expansion of his power base after the defeat of Anubis, he was sorely in need of more Jaffa to bolster his armies. I imagine that he looked everywhere for a queen, and, unsurprisingly, he couldn't find one. I'll give him this; he's clever, and patient. I don't know if he originally got the information from Anubis, or if he's been doing his own researches, but eventually he must have decided that if he couldn't find a queen, he'd have to make one. It's a truism of evolution that it can't go backwards – you can't re-evolve features you've lost. But fortunately in this case the genes required for sexual reproduction haven't yet been entirely lost in most Goa'uld lineages; they are present but remain dormant.

The only way to activate this genetic cassette is to find a way to artificially trigger metamorphosis in a Goa'uld. You can do this with a lot of earth amphibians, for example, by adding thyroid hormone. I have a nasty feeling Baal might have been going through quite a few of his fellows before he worked out that simply injecting them with the equivalent Goa'uld hormone wasn't going to be enough. Whilst the genetic cassette is intact, it isn't in the same form it was when it originated: it too has evolved. In a free-living species, environmental factors usually provide the signals that trigger metamorphosis. In a parasitical species, the environment is the host, and if the host doesn't possess those factors, and if the Goa'uld doesn't have a functional genetic module, then metamorphosis won't occur. Specifically, there are a whole suite of regulatory elements associated with this genetic cassette in the Goa'uld that make sure metamorphosis is not triggered in an incompatible host – in this case, the new host species: humans.

Not all humans are such imperfect hosts however: he must have discovered that a few, a very few, had certain particular genetic markers, most of them immunological in nature, that would activate gene expression when they were infected with a Goa'uld. These in turn would stimulate the activity of the dormant genes in the Goa'uld itself. A feedback cycle would set up, and the hormone would start to build up naturally in the Goa'uld until it triggered a metamorphic event. At the end of this event, the Goa'uld would be capable of sexual reproduction: she would, in fact, be a queen." The Tok'ra were staring at her.

"Are you saying….?" Anise began, in a wondering voice.

"I'm saying that the Goa'uld that infected me **wasn't **a queen," Dr Stewart stated clearly, "It was our great mistake to assume that she was, just because Baal acted like she was, and couldn't resist parading her about. It also explains her confusion: she must have thought he'd made a mistake and was terrified of being found out, in which case she'd be useless to him. However, as Baal had hoped, and predicted, she started undergoing a metamorphosis to **become** a queen.

But she had no idea what was going on. She was changing and didn't understand what was happening: she thought she was getting sick, but the very idea of physical illness seemed impossible to her. During the metamorphosis, the tendrils that infiltrate the host retract as the larval body plan is reorganised, which, eventually, explains what I was supposed to be finding out in the first place: why I was able to reassert control over my own body. I of course immediately tried to escape. The Goa'uld was by now in a total panic; deteriorating rapidly and doubtless not able to think coherently, she did the instinctual thing: she abandoned her host, even though it killed her, because by this time I'd ridden out to the middle of the forest and there was nowhere she could go.

Their mutual distrust was their undoing of course. If Baal only told her what was going to happen, she could have informed him and he could have just locked me up again until she'd finished metamorphosing and was able to reassert control. She herself didn't dare tell Baal what was happening, and outwardly there was no sign of anything unusual at first, so he didn't suspect. And so I got away."

"Are you saying…?" Malek echoed Anise, not daring to voice his hope. She smiled at him.

"I'm saying any Goa'uld – or Tok'ra, of course – that blends with me, or a human like me, will undergo this metamorphosis and become a queen. Although I have to warn you it's pretty dicey – all the other pairs died, but I was apparently the most hopeful genetic combination, and certainly, the process at least started." Freya/Anise were shaking their head in wonderment, almost laughing.

_She must have suspected this from the start, _Darin commented, _That was why she was so cagey about it, and yet so excited. _Malek was dumbstruck.

"I cannot believe it," he muttered, "I cannot believe it. All this time, and we never knew."

"You weren't looking for it," Dr Stewart replied, "Why should you have thought to do so?"

"You thought to look," Anise pointed out, and the woman smiled wryly.

"It's a lot easier to spot something odd when you've got an outsider's perspective. And I've trained at this discipline for years. I knew the moment I heard about the queen system that it was an anomaly, but to the goa'uld, it's just the way it's always been. The genetic memory doesn't go back forever; obviously it can't. Moreover, you have the Stargate archeologists and paleontologists to thank for continuing their investigations into the ancestral Goa'uld. I somehow don't think the Tok'ra have the resources to spare for that. Anyway, I've got all the detailed data here, so please check it out."

"I believe you," Anise replied, smiling, "Though I will look, later."

"Why don't you contact the Tok'ra first?" Stewart suggested, and Anise's eyes widened.

"Are you serious?"

"Perfectly." For the first time, Malek saw Anise completely at a loss as to what to do, and then she ran out, for all the world like Cinderella told she can go the ball after all. He turned his gaze back to Eleanor, who was looking, understandably, rather pleased with herself.

"You have a rare quality about you," he murmured, a deep warmth in his tone, and she flushed again.

"Yes, well," that wry, self-deprecating smile again, "I may not exactly be a hok'taur, or brave or strong or super-willed or any of the other frankly **ridiculous** things that I've been called lately, but, once upon a time, before I was the hottest property on the Goa'uld market, I was a damned good biologist." He dared to rise and embrace her briefly.

"That's not what I was referring to,"

"Then what?"

"Do you not know? It is clear that from the moment that you began to suspect what you were, it has only been your thought to help. And now that you know that you can, you are happy. Have you even considered that you don't have to do this? That you could have kept this to yourself, or walked away at any time, and we would never have known?" She looked as startled, almost, as when she'd first woken up in the infirmary, then she laughed again. He was beginning to recognise that, for her, sometimes laughter wasn't humour. It was distance.

"Honestly? It never occurred to me. Besides, that's bloody rotten." Anise hurried back in then, smirking slightly as she guiltily pulled away from him.

"I've persuaded the Tok'ra High Council to meet us here, in three days, to hear what you have to say," Freya informed them, "I haven't told them exactly what it is yet, for security, but I've impressed on them its importance."

"Great. Anyway, take another look at this data for me and help me put it together in a better presentation for them. I can't ramble on like I did just now!"

--------------

[Note: I apologise for trying to kill everyone with biological technobabble for this entire chapter! It was really hard to cut down without it losing all sense…and I have no Jack to cut me off.]


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The presentation was indeed considerably polished and improved by the time the two days were up, although Dr Stewart's mood became increasingly nervous. She eventually confessed that, whilst presenting numerous scientific talks had largely cured her of stage fright, the thought of speaking to the high-up delegates of an alien race was somehow an infinitely more alarming prospect. She even tried to persuade them to give the talk instead of her, but they were having none of it.

"It is your theory," Freya had insisted, "And largely your work. You should present it."

* * *

On the day in question, the Tok'ra arrived early. Malek/Darin found Dr Stewart still pondering over something on the computer, which she switched off hastily when they entered.

"The High Council are here, and awaiting our report," Darin told her.

"What, all of them? Already?! I can't speak to them like this!"

"Like what?"

"I'm in my jeans!" They roared with laughter, earning themselves a vexed expression.

"Dr Stewart, I do assure you, nobody is going to care what you are wearing, only what you are saying. Besides, don't all the scientists here wear jeans? I thought it was some kind of uniform." She took a deep breath.

"Right. Okay then, let's go." They waited until she reached the door before speaking.

"You might take your lab coat off however."

"Dammit!"

Anise/Freya had suggested that she leave her dramatic conclusion until the end, otherwise all chaos would erupt; there would be disbelief and questions and she'd never get the story out straight. Eleanor agreed. There was a form to presenting one's data, after all.

To the detriment of her composure, the senior members of the High Council were indeed all present: Garshaw, Persus, Selmak and Delek; an unprecedented gathering, in these dangerous times, even if Earth was relatively safe. General Hammond and SG1 joined them; SG1 for moral support as much as anything. Teal'c was his usual calm self; Daniel and Sam were shooting her encouraging, interested smiles. O'Neill looked less than enthralled at the prospect of being talked science at for the next hour, but was clearly resigned to it and had settled in with a big cup of coffee.

Malek/Darin sat near the front of the table, offering reassuring glances. Now it came down to it, Dr Stewart appeared to have got over the worst of her nerves: she appeared calm and expectant, and even smiled at Jacob/Selmak when she saw them.

"Firstly," she began, in a clear, resonant voice, "I wish to thank the Tok'ra High Council both for granting my initial request for assistance, and for graciously coming here today to hear the results of our researches, which I hope will be of some interest to you." _That's got to be the understatement of the year, _Darin observed, dryly, and they shared an amused, conspiratorial glance with Anise/Freya on the side of the table. One last deep breath, and she launched into her exposition.

Having heard most of it before, Malek/Darin took the opportunity to see how their fellow Tok'ra appeared to be receiving it. Delek as usual looked alternately disinterested and suspicious, but not actively hostile; Jacob/Selmak were listening with patient, friendly interest, Garshaw/Yosef were fidgetty but attentive, and Areth/Persus, not much of a scientist, was listening with a stoic concentration, rather mirroring General Hammond. Carter and Daniel were scientists themselves of course; Teal'c looked politely confused, and O'Neill looked to be struggling to keep awake. All of them, however, started paying attention towards the end, when it became clear what she was driving at, particularly the Tok'ra: Selmak suddenly sat at excited attention, and Malek knew he'd guessed; Garshaw looked like she was barely containing her questions; Persus had a look of slow-dawning wonder on his face and Delek looked increasingly incredulous. When at last she revealed the true reason for her capture, none of them could keep it in any longer, and she was bombarded with a blizzard of queries. They stepped in to field the questions in a more orderly fashion; but they had gone over the data so many times that Stewart was confident of her answers, and it showed. Eventually, there was a brief, stunned silence, at last broken by Selmak.

"Dr Stewart, I am almost two thousand years old. Am I to understand that you are calling me…a larva?" Jacob's mouth was quirked in a smile and they knew he was amused rather than offended. For a moment she looked supremely flustered, then, realising that he was joking, countered,

"It must explain your youthful good looks." He burst out laughing, and then the whole table did: it was emotional shock as much as anything. Malek shared a triumphant look with Eleanor. Persus waved for quiet again, and asked another, pertinent question.

"You mentioned that the odds of a human possessing the correct genetic markers at all these loci to be very low, and of course any human undergoing a blending that would lead to such a transformation would need to be relatively young and healthy. What odds are we talking about here?"

"Exceedingly low. Less than one in twenty thousand."

"Such odds are completely impractical," Delek pointed out, "We could not even collect enough genetic samples to begin to get that number. Even if we had free access to large human populations, such as Baal did, we would never have enough manpower or resources to mass sequence entire populations, and even if we found potential candidates, they would still have to consent to the blending."

"Yes I agree that is a difficulty with finding more hosts but…"

"Also," Selmak interrupted, "You mentioned that this process is not without risk. Did not in fact all the humans Baal find die?"

"Well, they did, but I heard it from his own researcher's mouth that I had the most favourable odds. I estimate the likelihood of a success, by which I mean the symbiote both surviving and completing a full metamorphosis, to be around 65% at the moment, which I appreciate could be better, but Anise thinks we ought to be able to improve that with more research and medical assistance during the process."

"It seems that this may be something we just have to keep aware of in the hopes that a candidate will turn up at some point," Garshaw remarked.

"Yes, but…"

"There may be some way of organising our efforts," Selmak answered Garshaw.

"Yes, and perhaps we could help," Daniel put in. "At least with the manpower, collecting samples, that sort of thing."

"General Hammond, would it be possible to come to some arrangement with the Tau'ri about collecting DNA samples?" Persus asked, as the table started buzzing again with general comment and discussion.

"If I could have your attention for a moment more," Dr Stewart said at last, followed by a louder, "Hey! I **am **right here you know!" and they all turned to face her, bewildered. She threw her arms wide, exasperated by their obtuseness.

"Baal's done all your hard work for you! The original plan will work. Find someone to blend with me, what's the problem?" Their open-mouthed silence clearly unnerved her and she gave another self-deprecating laugh.

"Okay, fine, I may be a second-hand Goa'uld host, and I'm sure I have plenty of character faults too numerous to mention, but I have the right genes for the job."

"Are you serious?" Garshaw demanded.

"Well – of course I'm serious. I mean, good grief, you didn't seriously think I invited you here just to listen to me witter on about my crazy theory for an hour then send you packing did you?" There was another stunned silence. "No seriously, you surely didn't think I would do that?" Selmak actually rose to his feet and dipped a slight bow.

"Dr Stewart," he said warmly, "I am sure there are none among us who would not consider it an honour to blend with you. But we are well aware of what you have already been through. We cannot ask you to do this for us."

"You didn't ask. I'm offering."

"You will help then?" Persus had to ask again. She dipped a bow back.

"I would be honoured to." Another nervous laugh, "Although, to be honest, I **could **use a bit of a holiday first." More animated discussion followed; but it was of a far different tone than before: excited, considering possibilities, not finding problems. Stewart eventually sat down and shot a wry glance over at them. Darin squeezed her hand under the table, and she smiled at them.

Under the circumstances, General Hammond decided it wouldn't be entirely out of order to get in refreshments, and the affair almost turned into a sort of impromptu party.

* * *

At a certain point, Malek noticed that Eleanor had slipped out.

_Probably embarrassed by all the attention, _Darin commented.

_Yes, and tired, I should think. Maybe we should go find her? _Darin didn't think he'd ever quite 'heard' that wistful tone in his symbiote's voice, and so they slipped away themselves in search of her.

They found her in the lab, predictably, hunched over the computer again. They stood in the doorway a moment, just watching her, noting the frown marring her features. The computer flashed up something with an ominous beep, and she stared at it a long moment.

"Well, that figures," she muttered to herself, and sighed. Malek walked up quietly behind her, a sense of foreboding stealing over him. "Oh well, never mind," she said at last, reaching to turn the screen off, then jumping as he caught her hand. She froze, looking slightly panicked. They looked at the screen, which showed the results of another simulation. 'Probability of symbiote survival under given parameters: 65%,' was prominently displayed, then, flashed up in red, but smaller beneath: 'Probability of host survival: 6%'. He stared at her, stricken.

"Were you going to tell us?" Malek found his voice before Darin.

"I don't know," she admitted, shoulders slumping. Anise/Freya chose that moment to barge in, the knowing grin that was forming on her face swiftly wiped off.

"What is it?" Freya asked, concerned. Malek indicated the screen, and she too looked shocked; there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"I will tell the Council," Anise added, more controlled, "You must not worry. Nobody would expect you to go through with it with those odds."

"No!" Eleanor almost shouted, then, more quietly, "Don't do that. I don't want anybody making a fuss. And I'm still going through with it."

"But your chances of survival…"

"Are unimportant," she retorted, fiercely, "Not compared to the chances of survival for the Tok'ra if I don't do this." But Anise was shaking her head.

"If we consider the life of the human host so expendable, are we any better than the Goa'uld? We cannot accept your offer under such circumstances."

"Yes you can!" They were both surprised by the ferocity in her voice, the determination in her eyes. "It is **my **choice," she insisted, "And I make it freely. If you deny me that choice then you are **exactly **like the Goa'uld." Anise's eyes flashed, but Stewart persisted. "Well, aren't you? Baal denied me the choice to refuse this option. You would deny me the choice to accept. What's the difference?"

"But your **life**_…_"

"Is **my** life, to give to whom I please. Don't you understand? The moment this knowledge was mine, I had to take the responsibility for it. How do you think I could just go on living, carrying on as if nothing had happened, knowing that every minute of my life, every moment of happiness, was given to me because I'd effectively condemned an entire species, a sentient people, to extinction? I **can't **do that. I can't live like that. Don't force me to." Anise looked troubled, but didn't protest further.

"You appear to have made up your mind long before now," Malek stated, shrewdly.

"Yes," she admitted, "I knew the chances before I made my offer. I'd already run simulations last week. This was just a confirmation." She rubbed a tired hand over her face, and he ached to hold her. "Look," she began, "Those are just the control odds, if you will. If we work out some medical interventions, we can raise them. I guess we'll need Dr Frasier's help, and I suppose I'll have to tell whomever they pick to – to blend with me. But I don't want you telling the Council."

"Why not?" Dr Stewart's face set in a harsh expression.

"Because that's going to be one very ferocious, very **ugly** argument that nobody will come out of looking any good, Do you really want to see how far their ethics can be stretched in the face of desperate circumstances?" Anise blanched.

"You are not so naïve as you appear,"

"I had a bastard Goa'uld in my head!" Eleanor almost hissed, "If I **ever **had **any **naivety, it's long since gone. And I know you're not going to refuse me. You can't afford to." A deep breath, then, reining in her anger.

"What if we wait?" Darin asked, "Postponed it. We could, after all, wait years before you blended. You could live your life before you risked it." But Eleanor was shaking her head.

"You don't have the time. Your numbers have fallen radically in the past five years. I'm sorry to be blunt, but you know as well as I do that if things carry on the way they are, you'll be extinct in another ten. If there is a difference to be made in the fight against the Goa'uld, it is now. Besides, if I had an accident or something and died before then, your chance would be gone, and you might never find another host before it was too late. Anyway, the chances of this working are better the younger I am."

"You are right," Anise conceded.

"Don't go bloody telling everyone," Dr Stewart repeated, muttering in the direction of the computer, "I don't want a fuss being made."

"All right," Freya said at last. "But we must tell whomever we need to assist us in our researches, and we must take as much time as we need to find a way to maximise your chances," She nodded agreement, grim-faced, then glanced at Malek, guiltily, before turning back to Freya.

"Could you er, give us a moment?" she asked, embarrassed.

"Of course," Freya smiled, "I will rejoin the others. I imagine the High Council will be leaving soon, but no doubt will be in contact with you again shortly. I will arrange for Malek and myself to be assigned here to continue our work."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Freya hesitated a moment more.

"If you have…any suggestions, as to what sort of person you may find it most amenable to blend with…" she began, awkwardly, eliciting another nervous chuckle from Dr Stewart.

"God, only so long as they're patient." Freya nodded, and left quietly. Malek waited silently.

"How did you know?" she asked at last, and he smiled wryly, leaning back against the workbench, then stood up stiffly again, unable to relax.

"When we indicated that we wished to pursue a relationship with you, you said there might be…complications. At first we thought that you were only considering that there would be someone else to fit into the equation at a later date, after you blended. We realise now that you have been keeping us at arm's length to try and protect us."

"Which I note you have been ignoring." His temper flared a little then.

"We have a combined age of 842! Do you think we should be shielded from the truth, like a child? From someone who can claim but a handful of that?"

"I – god, no. But you're pretty damn prickly, you know that? I don't know what else all that experience has given you, but it's clear that your wounds have made you defensive. You are always ready to leap and accuse." His eyes flashed.

"And what have your wounds taught you? To deny yourself all feeling lest some of it bring pain? Did you deny us to protect yourself, from the possibility of one other tie to a life you saw would be cut off from you sooner, rather than later?" She remained defiant.

"Perhaps I was trying to be rational. Responsible."

"You were neither. What were you thinking, trying to keep this knowledge to yourself? Would you have gone ahead with this foolish sacrifice, and smothered all other emotion with the comfort of your own nobility? **Died**, telling yourself it didn't matter, if it was for a good reason? The choice may ultimately be yours, but others have to bear the cost as well and you cannot keep them ignorant of what may befall you. You have a responsibility to yourself, and **all **those who care for you. You have a responsibility to the symbiote that will blend with you, whom you would have saddled with that loss, that guilt." She looked stricken.

"I would have told them before we blended!"

"When before? When their previous host was dying and they had no choice but to blend with you? So that they might forever wonder if they blended with you for the good of their people, or in part only to save themselves?" She looked like he'd slapped her.

"I – hadn't thought of that." Her voice was shaking a little. Malek let Darin take over briefly. He was softer.

"Do you wish to die?" She looked startled.

"No! Of course not, why would you think so?"

"It is clear that is easier for you to just charge ahead, not thinking about any of it, until you reach the end. It would be easier than facing not only what will happen to you, but what has already happened to you. Dying is easier than suffering, believe me, we know. It is the hardest thing, to live, when all else is against you, and life seems to bring naught but disappointment and pain, when there seems to be no hope left."

"I wanted to give you hope," she croaked, "I wanted – " her voice broke a little, and he waited whilst, with an effort, she composed herself, and suddenly her own temper flared. "I wanted to go home, dammit! I wanted to forget about Baal and the Goa'uld – and, and **her**_ – _and forget any of this ever happened! I wanted my life back – **my **life – the way it was! But I couldn't! It wouldn't let me go! And I couldn't let it go! I had to know – and, and when I did, I couldn't act as if it didn't change everything. Because it did." Her voice broke.

"None of us wants to change," Darin added, "Not if there's a chance we can stay the same. Don't you think I was terrified when I first became Tok'ra? But not all change is an evil."

"I'm a scientist, don't you think I know that?"

"Yes, and the scientist won. I don't know how you figured out what you were, what your potential is, but you did, and in the end you acknowledged it, though it cost you to do so."

"I kept dreaming…" she murmured, not looking at him, but staring at some far point in the distance, then she laughed again, her distance laugh. "You know, I went through this terrible phase as a kid. Kept having nightmares: really classic ones, being chased by monsters and dragons, always trying to eat me. Very childish. My parents despaired. They didn't know what to do. They took me to this snooty psychiatrist who told them I had an overactive imagination and suggested they not expose me to too many frightening stories or scary TV." She sighed. "I suppose I grew out of them in the end, until I discovered that I **was **being pursued by monsters. For real." She looked down at the floor, shuffled her feet. "The nightmares came back…after. I knew they would and I told myself it was just my subconscious processing the trauma, and that after a while they would fade and pass, just like last time. But in the end I realised it was my mind trying to tell me something else. Some clue I'd picked up on, perhaps some hint from the Goa'uld, I don't know…and my conscious mind just didn't want to know. No wonder I had a fit."

"I think you would have had a fit anyway; for not knowing would have driven you equally crazy," Darin teased softly.

"Yes, probably." She managed a smile.

"I'm not sorry I came back," she offered, meeting his gaze at last, steadily, "I'm not sorry I met you. I wouldn't want to forget that."

"We still have to tell a few people," Darin insisted, "We must coordinate our every effort to improving your chances, and whomever they find for you, must know the risks, not only to themselves, but to you."

"All right," she conceded.

"And for the rest?" Malek prompted, taking over again, "You must face your memories of the Goa'uld."

"The Red Queen…" she murmured, looking haunted.

"You won't even say her name."

"Why should I?" came the defiant response, "I don't want anyone to know her name. She wanted to live forever. She wanted dominion over all and an empire spanning the stars. She wanted her name known and worshipped by all. She deserves it denied. She deserves to be forgotten, with no one knowing her name but me."

"That will hardly happen if you blend and give us a queen. Then her name will live on in the memory of all her descendants." Her jaw lifted.

"Is that supposed to comfort me? Or even **encourage **me?"

"I hardly need to, and you've already made up your mind. As for encouragement…frankly, the selfish part of us would like to talk you out of it, but we know we cannot, and should not."

"Nice to know I've won on **something**_. _Two against one really isn't fair, you know that?" He smiled, but refused to be diverted.

"Do you want those memories as they are now, or dealt with?"

"I already dealt with her! I won, remember! I beat her! It doesn't matter how I beat her, the fact is I did."

"No, you escaped. That's not the same thing, and you know it." She scowled, and he knew he'd pushed her far enough for one day. "Just…think about it. Do not try to bury what will not stay buried, or your monsters will not leave you alone. You must deal with this, if you are to blend."

"All right." He knew that was as much as he was going to get, at least on that front. Time to move onto another important matter. He stepped to stand close in front of her.

"And for us?" Intently. She shook her head, though not, he thought, in negation.

"You're not giving up on this, are you?"

"No, and I might add that this is **our **choice; we know what we are entering into and we do not need you to try and shield us from them in some misguided attempt to protect us."

"You seem very sure of what you want. How can you be so certain, when you've known me such a short time? When you know what might happen?"

"I am more than old enough to know my own mind," he reminded her, "Still more my own heart, and what I told you before still holds true: one must seize the moments that time allows, even if they are only to be fleeting, even if it brings pain."

"Somehow, I thought you'd be far more cautious," she admitted, almost shyly, "I always overthink everything. I always hesitate. I am always…filled with doubt."

"Perhaps because, even though you are Tau'ri, and very young, you at least retain the residual sense to realise when something is beyond your immediate understanding." He endeavoured to sound as patronising as possible, and it worked.

"Arrogant tosser!" she accused him, with a playful shove, but she laughed nonetheless. His smile was smug.

"Those 800-odd years are good for more than one thing," he purred suggestively, unable to resist really winding her up.

"You're unbelievable! Sam told me the Tok'ra were passionate – she obviously forgot to mention pervy!" He chuckled, letting his eyes flash again, then replied, oh so mildly,

"You are not always filled with uncertainty. When you guessed what you were you came here, with your offer to the Tok'ra already in mind – you led with your heart. Will you not listen to it now?"

"Now you're being **really** arrogant."

"If you were averse to the idea, you would have put us down outright when first we asked," Darin pointed out slyly, taking her hands.

"Yeh, well, I also usually manage to know a guy for more than three weeks before I have my first blazing row with him."

"You astonish me," Malek murmured, and, before she could retort, leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. She hesitated a moment, then her arms came up around him. Ardent, he pressed forward, and she held him back a moment with her hand pressed against his chest: it didn't shake any more, he noted.

"All right?" he questioned, and she appeared to reach a decision.

"Yes," she said at last. "Won't the others be wondering where you've disappeared to?"

"Hopefully Freya has told them I'm busy trying to seduce a stubborn Tau'ri," earning himself another cross shove.

"Even without this queen business I'd have to blend. I don't stand a chance against you two otherwise," she muttered, but the light had returned to her eyes, and a hint of mischief entered her smile, "I should call Freya back and ask her to find me the most arrogant, unruly, argumentative bastard of a symbiote you've got." Malek laughed.

"You already have him." This time, she pulled him to her, and he consented to be silenced.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

They embarked on a campaign to defeat the numbers, and slowly, slowly, the dreaded statistic began to climb grudgingly upwards. An early success was the recognition that the major problem was that, when the symbiote began to undergo the metamorphosis and lost control of the host, the host's immune system reasserted itself with a vengeance and began attacking the symbiote, the symbiote in turn releasing poison if it was severely damaged. So Dr Frasier successfully managed to adapt the use of immunosuppressant drugs designed to prevent transplant rejection, and the number rocketed from "6%" to "22%". Other successes were more incremental, and, eventually, after six months of solid research, the odds plateaued: the symbiote at a respectable 85%, the host still bottoming out somewhere around 30%, but still, a damn sight better than it was.

The Tok'ra council meanwhile, vacillated and argued over future arrangements: nobody could agree on where she would be safest; Earth seemed the most likely candidate, but breeding large numbers of larvae here would be problematic, and there was always a risk of, for example, the NID getting hold of them, or her. Tok'ra bases or protected planets had their own risks, but, with the recent defeat of Anubis, the threat was greatly diminished, and the Tok'ra themselves more cautiously optimistic. In the end they had settled for regular changes of address; a moving target was harder to hit, after all, and it would not literally be putting all one's eggs in one basket. Jacob/Selmak meanwhile, with Malek's help, were tentatively trying to mend fences with the rebel Jaffa, a slow, frustrating process in itself. Slowly, though, everything was coming together. Now it was just a question of waiting for a suitable symbiote.

Eleanor finally decided to take her holiday. She had officially resigned from her college fellowship a while ago, but dropped by for one last goodbye. She didn't want to turn it into a pilgrimage of places and people she would possibly never to see again, but it was nevertheless important to her, and to them, to do these things. It had been bad enough, bringing her immediate family and closest friends (at her insistence) in on the secret. Her father had tried to talk her out of it. Her mother knew better, but was, somehow, the angrier for it. But in the end they had come around, as they had to. As everyone had to. As she herself had, in a sense. She felt calm about the whole thing now, although she knew herself well enough to know that she'd also be a total nervous wreck when it came right down to it.

After that, there was still time, so she decided that she would go somewhere completely new, with someone completely new, and, eventually, secured permission for Malek/Darin and herself to travel a little on Earth. Considering that her chances of survival were still not that great, and considering that, even if she did survive, her future looked to be filled with enemies and the weight of a limitless, lonely burden, she thought she had never been happier than in those few weeks. Malek/Darin too, were more relaxed, and as close to carefree as she had ever seen them, and if some nights she would wake, heart fluttering from one of her slow-diminishing nightmares, the nameless and unspeakable dread resounding in her mind, then they were there to reach her, and it did not matter. And if sometimes he did not sleep, and instead stood looking thoughtfully out at the night, the sadness of ages in that youthful face, then she would draw them close again, and that did not matter either.

It could not last forever, of course, and they returned before she knew her anxiety would begin to intrude too much upon her enjoyment. Besides, Jacob/Selmak had sent word that they expected a symbiote would be ready soon, from an elderly host that was beginning to show signs of fading, although they had yet to be informed of what blending with her would entail, and so it wasn't certain if they would accept. She disliked the thought that she was essentially waiting for someone else to die, but pushed it aside and persuaded herself to think of it as giving a chance of life to another person instead. With nothing more pressing to do, and feeling an urgent need for normality and routine, or as close to it as she could get, she went back to work, tinkering with pet projects that had piqued her interest when she learnt more about the stargate program, but which pressing matters had always taken precedence over. Went back to work, and waited.

* * *

The Jaffa master Bratac arrived at one of the newer rebel bases and looked around with conflicted feelings. Matters had not been going well in the fight against the Goa'uld, and his people had recently suffered heavy losses. Moreover, he had been dismayed that the alliance between the Free Jaffa, the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra had effectively been disbanded, even whilst he acknowledged the difficulties they had and the need for his people to stand on their own two feet. However, certain of the Jaffa and the Tok'ra felt differently: his old friend Malek had recently passed on some highly confidential information that was a measure of the trust between them, at least, and offered a great hope to the Tok'ra that he found gladdened his old heart.

Looking around, he found it difficult to believe the Jaffa were ready to stand alone. This new base was chaotic and badly organised. It was hard to tell who was in charge, if anybody. But then again, it was a significant place: strategically located near the edge of Baal's territory, with many of his Jaffa now come over since the rise of the super-soldiers. Fresh warriors for the cause, which always invigorated him.

He made his way to the headquarters – at least, what he hoped were the headquarters – and requested and got to see the latest intelligence reports from the rebel Jaffa still operating with Baal's ranks. As he suspected, a lot of the reports were amateurish and the collation of the data was almost non-existent. He spent hours going through them, patiently trying to explain how to make more effective use of their resources to the base commander, a fortunately patient Jaffa by the name of Arzec. So engrossed was he in what he was doing that he almost missed the crucial piece of information. He stared at it, dismayed.

"When was this report received?" Arzel stared at it, clearly trying to remember.

"Ten days ago. Why? It is of no great significance." Bratac was about to explode and explain that, quite to the contrary, it was, when he realised that Arzec couldn't possibly have known that. He put his head in his hands in despair.

"Secrecy and distrust," he muttered, "I always knew it would serve no good end."

"Baal plans to launch an attack on a primitive world in disputed territory. What have you seen that I have not?" Arzec wanted to know.

"That Baal is being very clever, and that we have not," Bratac said, grimly, "That world is in fact officially uninhabited."

"Then why does he need a large force at all?"

"Because unofficially, it is now the largest base of the Tok'ra."

"We should warn them," Arzec said, earning himself a measure of respect from Bratac, "Although there may not be time for them to evacuate." Bratac stood up, resolved.

"No my friend, it is not enough. We must help, and we must act swiftly. I want as many of our people gathered here as possible, as soon as possible. And I need you to send someone urgently to warn the Tau'ri. They may be able to reach the Tok'ra faster than us."

"The nearest world with a stargate is some distance away," Arzec pointed out, "We may not be fast enough."

"We must try."

* * *

Only two days later, Bratac stood ready to address the mass of Jaffa before him, an army ready to move. He was not much of an orator, There were many gathered, but he feared that most would not join him in this venture. There was too much bad blood, too much distrust.

"My fellow warriors," he began, "Today I ask you to go to battle against an enemy you know well, for a friend that you do not. Baal is about to launch a major assault on a base of the Tok'ra, the largest remaining that they have." There was already a disquieting murmur of voices. "You may ask yourselves why we should aid the Tok'ra," he continued loudly, "Our alliance has fallen apart, and it was never an easy one. Ask yourself this: should we aid the Goa'uld, by not helping **all **who stand against them? I have fought alongside the Tok'ra. They are difficult, yes, and arrogant, but they are honourable, and they have served the free peoples of this galaxy for centuries."

"Because of Tok'ra spies and Tok'ra refusal to act against System Lords like Olokun, thousands of Jaffa have died!" Someone called out.

"And who killed them?" Bratac retorted, "The Tok'ra themselves? Or was it not rather other Jaffa, our brothers and sisters, my friends. Do you judge** them** so harshly? Or do you not explain to yourself that for thousands of years, we have had no choice but to do the little we can, as the Tok'ra have had no choice? Is this the way it will continue, Jaffa against Tok'ra, Tok'ra against Jaffa – when the ones truly responsible are the Goa'uld?"

"We cannot afford to fight for everybody," a more measured voice pointed out, "We should risk ourselves in the battles that count the most, and for our own kind above all."

"Who are you to judge who is worth more than another?" Bratac retorted, "A false god?" There was a ripple of bitter laughter at that.

"My fellow warriors, we cannot always choose either our friends or our battles, but where a chance for action for the good of an ally is offered, it should be seized upon gladly. We have much to thank the Tok'ra for, for it is through them that we may at last be free utterly of our dependence on the false gods. It is they who developed tretonin, at the cost of the lives of thousands of Tok'ra symbiotes, and their queen herself. Is that not a debt which deserves to repayed?" Silence. He'd hoped that would be enough: many Jaffa he knew had been unaware of that fact.

"Who is with me?" he cried forcefully. Silence and the shuffling of feet. "Who is for the free peoples of the galaxy and against the tyranny of the System Lords?"

"I!" called a lone voice: Arzec, brave soul. Several Jaffa were leaving, clearly not interested. But many more were staying. Then another voice.

"I and my warriors will stand with you." M'zel, who was a strong leader amongst them. Then like an avalanche the first few launched the rest.

"I! I! I!" Hope resurged again as the voices called out. It would be enough. He only prayed it would be in time.

* * *

Eleanor had had weeks to prepare herself for what was going to pass. So when Jacob came hurrying through the stargate one afternoon with a guard of Tok'ra centurions, she should not have been so caught out, and yet somehow she was. He came straight to the lab, where she was fiddling with something with Malek and Anise, rather than wait for her to be summoned.

"Dr Stewart," Selmak announced from the doorway.

"Oh, hello," she returned cheerfully, completely not cottoning on to the reason for his visit, and glancing back down at the computer. "Take a look at this new improved formula for tretonin Malek's come up with." Selmak smiled.

"Maybe later. I must ask you to come with us. We have a symbiote for you." She stared at him, fully aware that she must look like she'd been slapped across the face with a wet towel.

"Oh, er, right, yes, I mean, of course," she babbled, "I'll be right there I just need to get my stuff together…" whilst all she could think was: _Oh shit. It's really happening. Like, now._

"Someone can bring your things later, we have to leave immediately. Their host has abruptly taken a turn for the worse, so it is a matter of some urgency." She froze, all her escape routes gone.

"Yes, of course….there's time to go to the bathroom right?" He smiled.

"Of course." He waved a package at her, "And please change into this Tok'ra uniform. It would be best if you were as inconspicuous as possible."

"Er, right, okay." She grabbed it and fairly fled the room.

"Okay, Stewart, pull yourself together," she told her reflection in the mirror, watching the water she'd just splashed on her face run down and form unhappy drips on her chin and at the end of her nose. The Tok'ra desert uniform didn't look bad on her, but seeing herself in it was jarring, nonetheless. And it felt odd. "It's not like you haven't been expecting this for months, so what's the big deal? Also, you've already been twenty minutes, they're going to think you have embarrassing digestive problems or something." She took a deep breath, willed herself to calm down from her incipient panic attack, and looked at her hands where they were splayed flat on the countertop in front of her. _One, two, three four five…._Not shaking, although the rest of her was fairly trembling with fright. Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten to mention to the Tok'ra that they were not exactly getting the most heroic specimen of humanity here. Those hands…they had been used by another, before, and it had taken a lot, before she had been able to call them her own again. The thought of surrendering them again, even willingly, even for a moment, was suddenly so unbearable that she didn't know why she had ever thought she could kid herself she could do this.

"It's not going to be like that," she told herself, stubbornly, through gritted teeth. Idly, she wondered how long it would take before Malek decided that 'Ladies' was only applicable to Tau'ri, and barged in to find her. Or, you know, some airwoman might come in for the perfectly legitimate reason of wanting to use the loo and saw her, a quivering sobbing wreck in the corner. That potential humiliation dried up the sting behind her eyes pretty quickly. If you have nothing else left, she thought, with that familiar gallows humour, then you at least have your pride, or what you laughingly refer to as your dignity.

Another deep breath, and her reflection composed itself. She brushed away the remaining drips. Then she decided that her mother's advice of making sure you go before you leave on a long journey was never more relevant, and made hasty use of the facilities, before scuttling back out, where she bumped into not Malek, but SG1.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asked instantly, brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine," she managed. They didn't look convinced. "Just a bit nervous."

"They'll understand," Sam reassured her, with a warm smile, "It'll be fine."

"They will, in fact, take very great care of you, Dr Stewart," Teal'c told her.

"You can still bug out if you want," was O'Neill's contribution.

"I'm fine," she repeated, then pulled at the uniform top. "This feels weird."

"Ooh oooh ooh!" the Colonel suddenly exclaimed, excitedly, and flourished a bag at her. "Wear this instead! I had it made specially!"

"Er…" she said, taking it uncertainly. O'Neill had an expectant look on his face. Carter and Daniel looked worried. She fished out a white t-shirt, and held it in front of her.

"Oh man…" sighed Carter. Daniel pushed his glasses back, but it was clear he was trying not to laugh. She turned it round to see bright red letters proclaiming loudly across the chest:

**THE HOST WITH THE MOST!**

"Oh god," she muttered. Damn the Colonel and his sense of humour. Then, suddenly, it was funny and she found it in her to laugh after all. "I am **not **wearing that for any money!" she said, "Can you imagine the look on their faces?!"

"Oh please, please please please!" O'Neill begged.

"Clown," accused Daniel.

"Indeed," said Teal'c.

They dialled the address as she walked in, still firmly dressed in her new Tok'ra uniform. She was relieved to see Malek waiting there for her with an impatient Selmak, a faint furrow of concern on his brow; she lifted her chin slightly and ignored it. The gate whooshed into life, and she nearly ducked in surprise. She had watched the stargate open many times from the control room, but never stood in front of it before. A sense of wonder and excitement began to restore itself over the queasy nervousness in her belly.

She ascended the ramp, the Tok'ra falling in beside her: Malek stood close but seemed to know not to hold her hand. She touched the shimmering surface of the event horizon, a smile breaking out over her face. Then, following their lead, she stepped through.

* * *

"Unscheduled offworld activation!" The klaxon sounded only a few hours after Eleanor had left, and SG1 hurried to the gateroom from the canteen.

"Receiving a Jaffa IDC, sir," Walter announced as they hurried in.

"Jaffa? What could they want?" Hammond asked. "Well, open the iris."

"Sir." A figure hurtled through the wormhole and landed heavily on the ramp, tumbling down it to lie still on the floor. They hurried to help him up, but he was already struggling to his feet. A Jaffa warrior, bloody and exhausted-looking.

"I bear an urgent message from Master Bratac!" he gasped. Jack and Daniel were holding him up between them. He hesitated a moment, drawing a deep breath. "The System Lord Baal has discovered the location of the new Tok'ra base and is taking a large fleet there. He means to wipe them out."

"Oh hell," muttered Hammond, amidst exclamations of dismay from the team, "Have you been able to warn the Tok'ra?"

"We have not. We tried to make contact through our agreed location, but the outpost had recently been overrun with Kull warriors and there was no sign of the Tok'ra. Baal is advancing everywhere, and it is with the greatest difficulty that I was able to find a stargate to reach you."

"Well how soon will he get there?"

"He may even now have arrived. Master Bratac is trying to send warriors, but we do not know if they will get there in time."

"Get this man to the infirmary," Hammond ordered, all business. "And make preparations to send a force of marines through." He ran back up to the control room, "Dial the Tok'ra immediately! We've got to warn them." Walter began punching in the coordinates with practiced efficiency, then frowned.

"Sir…"

"Please don't tell me you can't get a lock."

"No sir I cannot. They're either dialling out or someone else is dialling in." Hammond was grim.

"And I bet I know just who."

**End Part 2.**


	9. Chapter 9

[Thanks again for the reviews folks, glad you're enjoying it. This chapter is a short one but it took a couple of days to upload because I've been away. The next few should come reasonably quickly. Have to warn you it gets a bit dark and desperate in parts 3 and 4. Oh, and if Eleanor seems to be coping remarkably well, it's not entirely the whole story... ;) ]

**PART 3**

'Nature is neither kind nor cruel, but indifferent; such kindnesses it may appear emerges from the same imperative as the cruelty – we will die.' (Richard Dawkins, A Devil's Chaplain).

'All Nature is War.' (Charles Darwin)

**Chapter 9.**

The area of the planet Eleanor and her companions gated to was dominated by a large expanse of rolling dunes, barely covered with scraggy grass that was slowly being swallowed by the death-grey desert; sand immediately insinuated itself into her boots. A rocky bluff running in a jagged line parallel with the gate, loose scree scattered at its base, provided the only variation in the scenery. On the horizon, she could just glimpse a long line of dark brown hills. It was late afternoon, and the eerie, watery light of a pale and faded sun seemed to wash out the colour in the landscape even more. Not exactly the most attractive place, she thought, but did not say, as she was hurried along. The air was chill and dust-dry against her face, and she was glad of the tough Tok'ra uniform. Loose shingle from the rocky escarpment crunched underneath her feet: she spied an unusual stone and stooped to pick it up.

"I found a fossil!" she exclaimed, briefly delighted. It looked to be a small fish-like thing. Ironic, really; she'd never specifically been fossil-hunting, but had always kept an eye out in likely places, and never found any. Now she found one moments after stepping onto an alien world. Hard to believe that there was once a sea anywhere near here; it must have been swallowed by the desert aeons ago. Malek turned to see her lagging and smiled, but beckoned her to hurry up. She pocketed the fossil and they stopped at a specific point some distance from the gate; it looked, as far as she could tell, the same as any other point in the landscape, but then Jacob turned and grinned at her.

"You'll like this bit," he promised, as rings appeared out of nowhere and then, just as suddenly, they were underground, amidst cool, crystalline blue-purple.

"Woh," she remarked, startled, looking around with a curious awe. There was a small deputation of Tok'ra to greet her at the entrance too: some medical personnel, more guards, and another member of the Council whose name she was desperately trying to remember. The particularly arrogant, imperious one.

"Welcome to Rokarrin," he greeted her, with a courteous incline of his head. "On behalf of the High Council, I would like to thank you again for volunteering to be a host." He gave no hint that there was anything more to it than that, but she had not expected him to. The need-to-know list was still a small one, for security reasons, and he would hardly be so careless.

"Councillor," she nodded back, "It's an honour and a privilege to be here, thank you." That seemed to satisfy him.

"Delek," Malek greeted him, more informally, with a warm handclasp. Delek, that was it. "We must catch up later."

"Indeed. If you will both excuse me for now, however, there are matters I must attend to. Selmak will take you to where you are needed, Dr Stewart." She nodded, starting to feel a bit overwhelmed again, and followed Selmak down the winding corridors, very grateful for Malek's solid presence at her back, and trying to pay attention to what Selmak was saying.

"The symbiote you are to blend with is called Neruk; a relative youngster at 956 years of age. His current host is a man called Matthus…"

"Er, does he mind switching to a woman?" she interrupted, surprised.

"Not at all. Some symbiotes have a preference, but he is not one of them. He has been informed of the…unique situation you are offering him, and he is delighted and honoured to accept. Of course, this is still all contingent upon your acceptance of each other. You may still change your mind. I regret we did not have more time to arrange a meeting between you beforehand, but security has been a great concern to us."

"Yes, of course," she murmured, busy staring at the labyrinth of corridors and chambers around her. If Malek hadn't told her something about how they were constructed beforehand, she would have been firing off questions. As it was, she tuned out whatever else Selmak was droning on about her future potential soulmate, until suddenly they arrived at what was obviously some sort of sickroom. A tall and very elderly-looking man with flowing white hair and a distinguished beard was lying quietly upon what looked more like a stone slab than a bed. She stopped uncertainly by the door, feeling as if she were intruding.

"You should speak to them alone," Selmak prompted her, gently, and she looked questioningly at Malek.

"We'll be right outside," he promised.

She rapped her knuckles at the side of the entrance, in lieu of knocking on the door, and discovered that those crystals were rather hard, then, sighing, walked in. The man upon the bed was very still.

"Er," she began, butterflies rising in her stomach, "Good afternoon…are you actually awake?" The eyes snapped open; they were a startling pale blue.

"We are," the host's voice replied, weak but filled with humour, "You must be the nice young lady who's come for my Neruk."

"I'm afraid so," she admitted.

"What are you afraid of? There's no reason, I assure you."

"What? Oh, I'm not. Exactly. Well, a bit nervous." She took a deep breath, in an effort to stop herself babbling. "It's a turn of phrase." Matthus chuckled.

"Oh good, we misunderstand each other already." She smiled. "Neruk would like to ask you a few questions."

"Well, of course. And, just so you know in advance, I feel it only fair to warn you, er, him, apart from the whole freaky metamorphosis and possibly dying thing," waggling her fingers, "I lately had this Goa'uld in my head and so any mess you may find there she is entirely to blame for, I am ordinarily a very tidy person. I'm a scientist and always will be, so you'll probably just have to put up with my curiosity and getting distracted by things I consider more important than the fate of the galaxy, like, for example, fossils. Also my hair is uncontrollable and Darin says my taste in music could be used as weapon against the System Lords, which is totally unfair. Also I ramble when I'm nervous." A rich laughter came from the man on the bed, and she wasn't entirely sure whether it was the host or the symbiote.

"Dr Stewart," and it was Neruk who spoke.

"Under the circumstances," she remarked dryly, "I think you can call me Eleanor."

"Ah. They did not tell me your first name. It's pretty, what does it mean?" She had to look away a moment, and when she turned back to face him, she knew that her face was showing her most watery smile.

"According to Dr Jackson, it means pity."

"How interesting, and, perhaps, how apt. Eleanor, Matthus is not entirely correct. There are not really many questions that I wish to ask you. Your actions speak highly as to your character, and Selmak seems rather taken with you as well. Are you sure you can't do better than a meek little symbiote such as myself?" He teased.

"I'm sure you're just being modest, which makes for a refreshing change, I must say," and Neruk laughed. "And I think you're just stalling for time, to put me at my ease," she remarked, shrewdly, "Which speaks enough as to your character. Will you have me then?"

"If you will have me, then gladly, yes, and we will face this challenge together. Matthus will guide you."

"Lie down next to me, and kiss me," Matthus told her, with a twinkle in his eyes that prompted her to joke.

"Woh woh woh! Now wait a minute, nobody told me there would be kissing of handsome young men involved. How outrageous! I'm not sure about that!" Matthus chuckled, but it was very weak, and, impulsively, she squeezed his hand.

"All right, let's go then." She started to approach, but then an almighty explosion ripped through the tunnels, and the crystals above her cracked with a noise like a gunshot. At the last moment, she felt a strong shove in the middle of her chest, and then fell to the ground, plunged into darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

[Just to warn folks, this chapter has some pretty intense, but not explicit, battle violence. And I'm sorry Roeskva, I like Neruk too but the plot goddess had other ideas...}

**Chapter 10.**

Hands were pulling her up. Voices were calling her name. Lights flashed wildly in the darkness, and she scrambled to her feet, choking on dust.

"Eleanor!" Malek, one hand firmly on her arm.

"I'm all right," she gasped, shocked rigid, and looking round desperately.

"We are under attack," Selmak supplied, pre-empting her question; he had her other arm, and just as well, or she felt sure she would have fallen. The chamber was half-filled with crystals from where the roof had collapsed.

"Neruk!" she exclaimed, starting forward; the bed was half-buried in rocks. Just one outstretched hand protruded from the rubble. The hand that had pushed her out of the way. She reached and touched his fingers; they were still warm, but lifeless.

"He's dead. Move," Selmak ordered bluntly, and half-dragged her out of the chamber, ignoring her involuntary protest. They ran back the way they had come, Selmak ahead of her, Malek behind, and everywhere Tok'ra running and shouting, weapons drawn, sometimes carrying cargo, sometimes the dead and wounded.

Delek and six guards met them halfway there; Delek had a bloody gash across his forehead, and the aloof expression she remembered had been replaced by worried concern, which relaxed a little when he saw her still alive.

"It's Baal," he informed them, grimly, "Somehow, he's found us. He's bombarding the tunnels. It can only be moments before he starts landing ground troops."

"I don't understand," she began, "That cave-in could have killed me. What use am I to him dead?" Everybody ignored her.

"We must get to the gate, it is our only chance," Selmak stated.

"Agreed," said Delek, with a curt nod, "Though it is a slim one. I managed to send an order to the guards to open the connection to the Tau'ri. We have less than 30 minutes before it closes, and I do not know if we will re-open it in time. I have ordered all other Tok'ra to make for the gate, and to hold it for us if they can. This guard is for Dr Stewart."

"Good. Let's go."

"We cannot take the rings. The Jaffa have broken through into that section. We must circle round, via the escarpment. This way."

And they were running again; her by virtue of Malek yanking on her arm once more. She wanted to ask – she did not know what. She wanted to protest – she did not know why. Her mind was reeling with shock. All she could see was Matthus' blue eyes suddenly widening; feel the unexpected force in his arm as he shoved her with the last vestige of his strength. But it was as much as she could do to run along, surrounded by her protective Tok'ra escort. They seemed to run for an age, shocks and thunderous tremors echoing around them. More than once, her escort closed arms over her head, shoving her to the ground, as rocks fell around them. Then someone would grab her arm and pull her up and somehow, they would go on. She could barely keep up; she was almost instantly running with sweat all over and her calves burned with the effort. Her ears rang with the noise and the pounding of her own heart, and the dusty air rasped cruelly in her lungs and stung her eyes.

"Keep going," Malek urged her, when she stumbled, "Run!" She ran, and at last they came to an exit; not via the rings, but evidently a secret back door; a narrow tunnel leading upwards. It appeared blocked, but Delek retrieved a crystal from some secreted nook and cracked it against the wall. She watched dumbly, incapable of amazement, as a new tunnel appeared ahead of them, arching steeply upwards, the crystals growing before her eyes, and, at the end, a patch of sky: blood-red and streaked with smoke. One of the guards went ahead to check, before beckoning for them to follow. Someone pressed something into her hand, and she realised that it was a zat gun. She tucked it into her belt, wanting her hands free for assistance, and scrambled up the steep slope. The crystal was still warm beneath her fingers, and she flashed, sickeningly, on a dead hand clutched in her own.

They broke out into the fresh air, laced with the acrid smell of smoke, and she was able to catch her breath for a moment whilst the Tok'ra conferred urgently as to their direction. Ships wheeled in the sky above them, silhouetted starkly against the setting sun, screaming like banshees as they dived in to strafe the ground above the base with missiles. They were just behind some high dunes that she remembered from the way in, and they wormed on their bellies to the top of one to get a better view. She could see the stargate in the distance below, finger ring-sized. Scattered Tok'ra figures were approaching it; well hidden in their desert camouflage but moving with frantic, dangerous haste. Only a short distance beyond that, Jaffa were landing from the ships and disembarking in vast numbers; an entire army. The gate was active, but only a few Tok'ra jumped through, most carrying things that looked important; the rest took up positions guarding it, all around, using whatever cover they could. Guarding it for her, she realised, appalled, and they hadn't even been told why.

"Let's go!" Jacob yelled, and they half-ran, half-slid down the side of the dunes, in breathless haste. With every last bit of strength she had, the adrenaline coursing through her system, she ran for it. Jaffa were fanning out all around, encircling the gate like a vice, and shots were swarming through the air. She saw several Tok'ra fall, and tried desperately not to think about it, for her mind was teetering on the edge as it was, and she could only keep it together by focussing on simple things like where to put her feet. They nearly made it too, but, as they approached the rocky escarpment running parallel to the gate, it abruptly deactivated. She saw, as if watching a film that she was powerless to change, a Tok'ra start to dial out again, only to be felled by a staff blast. Another took his place, then she, too, was down. And then it didn't matter anymore, because the gate reactivated. From the other side.

"Down!" Delek commanded, and once again she was pressed to the ground, and spat sand.

"Dammit!" That was Jacob, and she risked a glance up. There were more Jaffa pouring through the gate now; the first ones were taken down but the area in front of the Stargate was turning into a shooting gallery, and the Tok'ra were the ducks. One after the other was felled. Most of the rest retreated part-way, to the rocks, but they were completely cut off from any escape, and hopelessly outnumbered. Their group scrambled down to hide behind the escarpment. She shut her eyes to the view as they hunkered in the rocks, only half-listening to the talk going on around her. All this slaughter was because of her. For the first time, she wished profoundly that she had a symbiote. Then they could deal with this nightmare and she could do what she longed most to do and shut her eyes until it all went away.

"We will have to wait here until the gate closes again," said Delek.

"That could be thirty-eight minutes from now!" spluttered Jacob, "The Jaffa will be all over us by then!"

"We could retreat into the desert and hide," Malek suggested, but Delek was shaking his head.

"There is no cover. Even if we bury ourselves in the sand, the Jaffa can simply bombard from their ships again, or fan out in large groups to sweep the area."

"It may buy us time," Jacob remarked, "But we've got to get that gate open again."

"Look!" said one of the guards, and she risked a glance backwards. More ships were landing in the desert, behind the way they had come. They were cut off. A sense of helpless terror that she had not felt since – since **her**_ – _threatened to overwhelm her.

"No choice then," Jacob summarised, "A few more minutes here, then we'll have to make a dash for it. The SGC will by now be trying to open the gate from their end too, although they hardly have an entire army to spare."

"We'll split into two," Delek told them, "I and two others will attempt to loop round from the southeast, to draw attention away from the rest of you. If we can, we will reach the dialling device. Everybody else, run along the edge of the escarpment, and find your way down there. If the opportunity comes, seize it."

"Yes," was all Selmak said. That was hopeless, she wanted to protest, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She concentrated on trying to get her breath back. The sweat soaking her uniform was cooling rapidly in the chill of a rising wind, making her shiver. One of the guards handed her a water bottle, and she sucked some fluid down gratefully, staring determinedly at the fossil-streaked rock in front of her, fingers tracing the mineralised bone, as if seeking a pattern, and she knew, with a sudden and damning clarity, that if she lived through any of this, the sands of this world would lodge themselves forever in her mind, and the rocks would write themselves into her bones, and it would remain, always, in her memory, as clear-cut and as unforgiving, as dark, as if it were reflected in Tok'ra crystal.

"Time to go," Jacob said, suddenly, and she willed herself up onto wobbly legs again.

"Protect the hok'taur at all costs," was all Delek said, before he and two of the guards sprinted lightly off into the sand, ducking and dodging their way down to the gate. Jaffa started converging on his position almost immediately, and she realised that one of the guards was the one who had given her the water, and she hadn't given it back, and she didn't know his name, and now he was just someone else running out there and throwing away his life in a futile attempt to save hers…

"Come **on,**" Malek was urging her, pulling her arm again, and she started off immediately after him, trying to pull herself together enough to at least not be more of a burden than she already was.

They jogged and jigged their way down the long line of the bluff; now dashing, now ducking for cover, and trying not to send loose scree flying. The four remaining guards formed a protective human shield around her; Malek led, Jacob brought up the rear. She had lost sight of Delek and the others, but at the moment she only had eyes to spare for the placing of her own feet. The sound of staff weapons fire grew louder and louder, and abruptly a sizzling blast sounded right beside her, and one of the guards dropped, rolling down the slope, without ever making a sound. She stumbled in shock, but another guard had her and pulled her along, without a moment's hesitation.

Run and stop and run again; they made their desperate, jagged way down, in amongst the twisted stones. Jaffa converged upon them from all sides now; only the rocks saved them from immediate annihilation, as they shot and ran and forced their way through a narrow gully down towards the gate. It was a continuous running firefight the whole way. Another of her guards fell to the ground beside her, and still another in front of her, so close that she ran straight over her body and hurtled to the ground before she could stop herself; the guard's eyes flashed briefly in front of her face before winking out. Then Jacob was hauling her up again, and she ran on. She finally remembered her own zat, and gripped it desperately, but she could barely pay attention to both running and shooting at the same time, and the few shots she got off went hopelessly wide. A trio of Jaffa appeared suddenly ahead of them, and her last guard flung her into a protective depression in the rock. She felt his body jerk with the impact of multiple hits, the sound of staff blasts all around, before he slid to the ground, and she was looking straight at the face of a Jaffa, staff pointed straight at her. She raised her zat and shot in a shocked, snapped reflex, and then the Jaffa fell too.

Malek turned back to face her, from where he had just dispatched the other two, the fear in his face giving way to a clear, brief relief when he saw she was still alive. Somehow, she did not know how, she even smiled at him, weak as the winter sun. Jacob jogged up behind them.

"We've got more company behind us, keep going."

"I just heard the gate deactivate," Malek told them, as they ran, their little band of three. There were more shouts from behind. A staff blast went straight over their heads. They threw themselves into cover of the rocks. Jacob and Malek shared a glance, jaws hard-set.

"Go," said Selmak, and Malek clapped him briefly on the back, saying nothing.

"But – " she began, but Malek shoved her almost brutally forward. She stumbled, then righted herself and carried on, not looking back. For a minute, all that carried her along was an unspeakable fury that eclipsed even the fear. She could hear Jacob/Selmak shooting furiously behind them, and then, she heard the gate open again, and, suddenly, automatic weapons fire. Giddy hope flared precariously amidst the terror: at last, the SGC troops had come.

They rounded a sharp bend, and came at last to the end of the escarpment. Only long low dunes lay between them and the stargate. Malek barrelled to a halt so suddenly she almost slammed into him. She could just make out marines storming through the gate, and Tok'ra running to meet them, the Jaffa caught between, but there was still a large number of enemy soldiers between them and the gate.

"Back!" Malek gasped, and they turned, to go back the way they had come, only to see more Jaffa pouring into the gully behind them. There was neither sight nor sound of Jacob. They had to go forward. They flinched back simultaneously, their hands meeting and grasping instinctively.

"We will circle along the dunes," Malek told her, his tone as serious and hard as ever she had heard it, "If I fall, do notstop. Do not stop for anything." She couldn't reply for a moment. "Do **not** stop," he repeated.

"Yes," she said at last, through gritted teeth, and, with one last squeeze of her hand, he let go. They charged forward, at breakneck speed; the last, desperate run. The sand kicked up in great cascades from Malek's feet as he ran just ahead of her; her steps followed in his own, but their prints filled as soon as they were made. Their luck held until they skirted the edge of a dune, and suddenly there were a dozen Jaffa in front of them. Malek shot three before they even realised their target was there, and she herself hit another, but she knew, then, that this was the moment, and it wasn't long enough. Not for both of them. A whole line of staff weapons raised and came to bear at the same instant, as Malek's free hand came back to push against her, to push her away, to make her go. The world immediately in front of them erupted in a blaze of fire, and she landed hard upon her back. Sand thrown up by multiple blasts briefly but completely obscured the view, and she knew she had to take the chance and run. She rolled onto her front and pushed herself up, bringing to bear the zat she still had not lost. The sand cleared with the wind, revealing a solitary figure through the haze: Malek, against all the odds still standing, his zat trained steadily in front of him, unflinching. Ahead were more Jaffa.

"Bra'tac!" Malek exclaimed, incredulous, lowering his weapon slightly.

"Well met, friend Malek," replied the nearest Jaffa, his staff weapon still smoking from where he and his fellows had shot the other Jaffa. She staggered over to Malek, who was clasping the Jaffa's arm with his own in a fierce warrior's grip, dazed with relief and confusion.

"What?" was as much as she managed, and the strange Jaffa nodded politely at her.

"So, you are the young Tau'ri about whom I have heard so much," he said, his tone amused, although the expression on his face was a serious one. She could only imagine what she looked like to him. Small, terrified and pathetic; quite an accurate impression, probably.

"This is Master Bra'tac, of the Free Jaffa," Malek told her, still sounding like he didn't believe it.

"I came as soon as I was able, with as many Jaffa I could bring," Bra'tac told them, "My warriors have Baal's forces on the retreat, on the ground and in the sky. The Tau'ri are securing the gate. It will be some minutes yet before we can dial out again."

"It would seem I owe you once more," Malek remarked dryly, and Bra'tac quirked a smile.

"Come," he gestured, and they slowly followed him down, at long last, to the vicinity of the gate. The fighting had stopped, and Tau'ri and Jaffa were running around shouting orders, and picking up the wounded. The dead Tok'ra were piled several deep in places, and the sand before the gate was soaked with blood. She could feel herself beginning to shake with shock.

"I regret your losses have been considerable," Bra'tac commented, gravely, as they stood briefly, trying to take it in. Medical personnel were now hurrying through the gate, to prepare the wounded and the others for evacuation. "Perhaps, if I had persuaded my fellows to lend aid in a more timely fashion…"

"Their deaths are the fault of Baal alone," Malek said firmly, although his face was stricken. Eleanor began to wander towards the busying people, filled with the vauge and terrible notion that she had to help, somehow. The dying lay all around her, and she dreaded seeing Jacob/Selmak amongst them. But they would be back in the gully, if they were anywhere. She glanced back and saw Malek heading back that way with two other Tok'ra, Bra'tac watching her warily, a solemn expression on his face.

The wormhole shut down, and, at last, someone re-dialled Earth from their end, and sent the iris code through. But she barely noticed. She had seen, ahead, at the edge of the rocks, a vaguely familiar figure, and walked dazedly over. She recognised the guard who had given her the water, lying on the ground. He was dead. It was obvious that he was dead, and she did not know why she thought that crouching to take his non-existent pulse would tell her any different. She closed his eyes, then raised her own again, and saw, almost invisible against the sand, another figure propped against the rocks, that she also knew, surrounded on all sides by his fallen enemies. Another who had fought to the bitter end. She hastened over, having to pick her way amongst piled Jaffa bodies as she did so. The Tok'ra sitting propped against the stones still had his zat in his hand. Her heart wrenched with an unbearable pain. All this, because of what she was, because of what she represented, because of the promise she held and the threat she posed.

"Delek," she whispered, reaching to brush back the dark hair from his bloodied face. His eyes flickered open, and he actually smiled.

"Kyen," the host told her, his breathing ragged and ominously rattling, and she smiled back; it was the least she could do, but the most she could manage. She did not know what to say. What was there to say? Thank you? I'm sorry? When all she could think was: dear god, underneath it all you're just a boy. You're just a boy.

"I'll get a medic," she said instead, but was stayed by his hand on hers.

"It will do no good," and this time it was Delek's voice rasping against her ears. "Kyen is beyond any healing. We would not take them from those who can yet be aided." Another harsh breath. "We are glad…that you are unharmed." His face was peaceful, if strained. It seemed enough for him, that his death had a purpose. It was so little to give him. Her eyes were stinging unbearably, but her mind was clear for the first time since she had got here, and, for the first time, she was completely calm. She could see her future, and she could face it, unafraid.

"What about you?"

"You cannot be serious." He grimaced, then Kyen was back.

"Delek has no wish for a willful Tau'ri host. He thinks there will be nothing you will agree upon, and it will be a poor blending. I am urging him to accept."

"I too am wounded," Delek answered himself, "I may not be able to leave you for another host. You may be stuck with me until your death, and I with you. The thought is, frankly, unappealing." _Well that may not be long at all, _she thought grimly, marvelling, in spite of herself, at how he managed to retain his haughty demeanour. She glanced briefly around at the slaughter of the battlefield, then back at him. There was still noise and confusion all around, but the smell of smoke and blood and groans of the dying didn't impinge itself on her consciously; there was, still, only what was directly in front of her. At last, she spoke.

"This – **all **of this – is about survival. It's nothing more noble or profound than that. And we must make the best we can of it. Would you surrender now, when you fought so hard? Would you really rather die, when there's a chance still to live?" He looked deeply troubled then.

"Kyen wishes me to live," he said at last, his voice fading. He took a great, shuddering breath, looking her squarely in the eyes.

"Well?"

"I have no desire to be a queen," he admitted. She smiled thinly, meeting his frank, ageless gaze.

"Neither do I. At least we can agree upon that." His strength was clearly failing fast, and his head drooped, tiredly.

"Yes," came the barest sibilant hiss. She waited.

"I have never willingly kissed anyone," Kyen's voice was a tremulous whisper, "But I will, if it will save my Delek. Please, take care of him, and he will protect you."

"May I?" she asked carefully, swallowing painfully past the lump in her throat, and he nodded. He still looked very young, and very frightened, but his chin lifted defiantly, and a look of calm resolve settled on his handsome features. Slowly, she reached towards him, stroked his hair again, cradled his face, and, gently, tenderly, pressed her lips to his, giving him the sweetest kiss she was able to. His lips shivered under hers, and he kissed her back, just a little, before opening his mouth. She mirrored him, and felt the leap and sting of the symbiote as it left his body and entered hers. The man in her arms heaved one last shuddering breath, then went still. _Kyen, _came the faint, agonised voice in her mind. She held him sorrowfully for a moment, then released his body and turned to face the gate. The others were standing a short distance away, watching silently: Malek and Bra'tac with – thank god – Jacob/Selmak supported between them, bloody but alive, and looking faintly appalled.

"We must go," Malek said, and his voice was as steady as always, though there were tears streaking through the dirt on his face. She fell in beside them, and they walked back through the gate together; in that sense, at least, as they had arrived.


	11. Chapter 11

[Roeskva; I'm sorry for killing lots of Tok'ra, but, you know, there is a war on. I promise to try and behave from now on. And yes, Delek....I think he's an interesting one. We only see him in one episode, and in quite a negative light, but he did have some valid points, and he was a character I wanted to explore further. Give him a chance, but be warned though, he's still very, well, Delek-ish ;) ]

**Chapter 11.**

The scene on the other side of the gate was one of organised chaos. Everybody swiftly made themselves useful: Bra'tac was seeing to his Jaffa; Jacob/Selmak, attended by an anxious Major Carter, were one of the many receiving treatment; and Darin was assisting the busy medical personnel with a healing device. Everybody, that is, except for her. She did not know what to do, and found herself wandering back to her old room. She realised she was probably in a state of shock, and didn't know what to do about that, either.

Delek was a quiet, exhausted presence at the back of her mind, and she wondered, vaguely, if she ought to get some help for him.

_Delek? _she questioned herself, not even sure if that was going to work. _Are you going to be all right?_

_I am here, _came the tired reply, _I will heal. I just need to rest. _It was odd hearing his voice like that, but not unpleasant.

_I feel I should do something. _Without even realising she'd done it, she had wandered back out of her room again, down towards the medical rooms. Some of the surviving Tok'ra were setting up symbiote holding tanks for those whose hosts could not make it, and something in her mind blanched.

_The others will have everything well in hand. You need to rest too. _That was true enough; she was beyond exhausted, beyond drained, beyond feeling, almost. She hovered at the entrance a while longer, watching the desperate fight for life going on in there. Delek's pain and grief was a carefully muted feeling in her mind.

_It's not enough, _she decided, outlining what she wanted to do, _They at least deserve to know what all this killing has been for. _He resisted, almost instinctively. _What purpose will secrecy serve now? _ she pointed out, and sensed him relent, a little.

_I was the most senior Tok'ra at Rokarrin. I gave them the orders, _he admitted at last, and it suddenly made sense to her.

_It's not your fault. You did the best you could._

_I don't need you to tell me that. _That imperious attitude again, but perhaps, in the end, he was simply too tired to argue.

_Very well. Let's do this._

_Lend me your strength, _she asked, _For just a little while longer. And give me their names, if you can. Then we rest._

_Yes, _came the faint reply, then he went quiet again, concentrating on keeping them both upright for just that little while longer. She went to the bathroom to clean herself up a bit – it was the same one she'd hidden in before she left, half a lifetime ago. Somehow she expected the face in the mirror to look a hundred years older, but was shocked instead by the dirt and blood, by the myriad of cuts and scrapes visible; all over her hands too. She hadn't even noticed before. Her uniform was darkly stained with Kyen's blood. She washed up a little, and stared down her reflection until it composed itself, then she went out again. She was intercepted by Daniel on the way.

"Hey, if you don't mind me saying so, you look terrible. You should get some rest."

"Not yet. I have to do something first." The strenth in her voice surprised them both, and she lifted her chin. Daniel frowned slightly.

"Dr Frasier and the others have got everything under control. The Tok'ra don't need any more help."

"No they don't," she smiled wanly, "They need hope. And for what it's worth, that's me." He nodded, eyes filled with compassion, and let her pass.

She spoke to them all; Tok'ra, Jaffa, Tau'ri, thanking them, speaking to them, sitting with the dying. Telling them the truth, and watching it break across the weary, despairing faces of the Tok'ra like a new dawn. Eventually, she saw Bra'tac again, conferring with Teal'c, and approached him. He turned to face her, expression wary, and curious.

"Master Bra'tac," she bowed formally, "I wish to offer you thanks for the aid you and your valiant Jaffa have given to the Tok'ra today: for all of us, and for me, personally. With such as you against them, the Goa'uld cannot hope for victory."

"It was an honour," he replied, inclining his head. "On behalf of my people, I would like to extend our regrets for your losses."

"We thank you. Let us hope that this is the lowest ebb, before the tide turns."

"Indeed."

At the last, she staggered back towards her room, knowing she would not be able to stand much longer. Malek knocked softly on the door a moment later. He looked, if anything, almost as bad as she did.

"You never cease to impress us," he intoned warmly, and it was just too much.

"Don't be kind to me," she begged, in a voice that cracked, waving a hand helplessly as if to ward him off, "I have no defences against it." He reached for her then, and she stepped into his arms, tears flowing freely at last, from the both of them.

"Rest," he whispered, after an age, and she had barely the energy to nod. Delek had gone dormant in the back of her mind, and she struggled to take off her bloodstained Tok'ra uniform on wobbling legs. She had worn it for less than a day. The clock was telling her it was morning outside, but she only knew that she must sleep. Something fell out of her pocket onto the floor. It was the fossil she had picked up. She had forgotten. She tossed it to one side, fell onto the bed, and closed her eyes at last.

* * *

She slept straight through until the next day, although part of that was probably Delek. When she finally woke, he was already awake and waiting for her.

_Good morning, _he greeted her. He sounded, if sounded was the right word for something that was entirely a feeling that wasn't entirely hers, almost friendly, which soothed her rising nerves considerably.

_Er, hello. I have to say, this is really weird._

_You'll get used to it. _

_Did you…? Are you, blocking memories or something?_

_I have not fully blended with you, _he informed her, _I thought it would be a bit much, on top of everything else. Moreover I am hopeful I may be able to leave and blend with a more suitable host. Not, you understand, that I'm ungrateful for your saving me, but I know this was not exactly the first choice for either of us._

_Fair enough, _she replied, feeling a little…not quite hurt, more like insulted. She didn't fancy going through this whole thing twice. Make that three times. She might as well put up a 'Bed & Breakfast' sign on her forehead at this rate. She sat up, cautiously, and was surprised to find that nothing hurt. She had expected not to be able to move a muscle without it protesting. All the numerous cuts and scratches were healed over too.

_Wow. You fixed everything. Thanks._

_Well, of course. _He sounded surprised. _If I might make a suggestion, _he added, on an afterthought.

_Sure._

_Breakfast would be good. _He was right too; she was starving. She'd thought she'd have no appetite after the horrors of the day before, but her body apparently thought otherwise. So she got dressed and made her way down to the refectory, meeting Sam and Daniel on the way, and glad of the company. She had company in her head, of course, but it was still a rather supercilious form of company, and, she knew, a grieving one.

The rest of the day was spent meeting and talking to various people, making arrangements. It was clear it would be safest for her to stay on Earth for now, and nobody seemed to be in the mood to argue that. Delek didn't ask to come fore once; she'd offered, tentatively, but he'd politely refused, saying he had no wish to make her uncomfortable when there was no need, knowing her previous bad experience with the Goa'uld. She didn't know whether to be grateful for his concern or annoyed that he was being patronising. The remainder of the High Council had arrived and was less than amused when she informed them that Delek wanted a different host, and they'd have to find another for her, although Jacob/Selmak were clearly against their blending in the first place.

"I still don't understand why Baal attacked like that," she admitted, talking with Jacob, Garshaw and Malek. "Killing me seemed to be as good as capturing me." Selmak and Garshaw exchanged a glance.

"Unless your brain was destroyed, he would have been able to revive you with a sarcophagus," Malek pointed out.

"I think falling rocks are quite a good way of destroying someone's brain," she countered, suffering an unwanted reminder of Matthus and Neruk.

_He didn't need you, _Delek pointed out, unexpectedly, _Baal has obtained access to Asgard cloning technology, and he had cellular samples from you. He has almost certainly cloned many duplicates of you._

"Woh, what!" she exclaimed at loud, "Baal has made clones of me?!" Garshaw in particular looked most uncomfortable at that.

"It is unlikely that he would create any that contained your memories, even if he were able. He has no use for anything other than your physical make-up. We have been attempting to destroy both the clones and his record of your DNA so he cannot make more."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" She was angry. "Well, I'm guessing one of your operatives got caught."

"Operatives suicide rather than reveal information," Garshaw retorted.

"Assuming they had the chance to. And doesn't Baal also now have access to Anubis's mind-reading technology also?" Another uncomfortable silence.

"So far as we know, our operative was not compromised," Garshaw insisted, "But they were on one of the ships that was destroyed, before they could be debriefed."

"Baal attacked not because he wanted you back," Jacob pointed out, gently, "But because he didn't want anyone else having you, least of all the Tok'ra. He didn't need you anymore for his own purposes."

_You better not have been planning to try clone me yourselves, or take any of Baal's ones, _she accused Delek, fiercely.

_No, _he replied, _Technically, you should not really have a problem with it, if they do not have copies of your mind, but we vetoed that idea at the Council. _

_I suppose I have Jacob to thank for that._

_Selmak, myself and Persus were against. Garshaw was for, but was outvoted. I do not think any of us would want a host without a mind anyway, for however short a time. It would be like walking around in a corpse. _She was too annoyed to take any comfort from that, however.

_I am __**not**__ happy about all this. You could have told me!_

_You didn't need to know. Besides, w__hat good would it have done?_

_It would at least have been courteous! _She took a deep breath.

"We have to go to the infirmary for a check-up on Delek," she told them, "Feel free to get him the hell out of my head anytime soon."

_Eleanor…_

_I don't want to hear it! _Delek fell silent then, although she had the clear impression he thought she was being petty by sulking. Fine. Maybe she was. He could live with it. Part of her did regret it though; yesterday they'd acted in perfect accord. Today it seemed they were already arguing and he was acting like she was a child.

Both Dr Frasier and some of the Tok'ra medics ran a battery of tests on her, resulting in some frowns that they were both beginning to find rather worrying.

"Er, is there a problem?" she asked eventually.

"You are both well," Dr Frasier assured them, "But we're getting a few unusual readings."

"I would like to speak with Delek," the Tok'ra medic asked, abruptly.

_Well go on then, _she prompted.

_Are you sure?_

_I'll try not to pass out in terror, _she retorted, sarcastically. It was probably just as well that she was still cross at him; otherwise, she might indeed have been frightened, but she didn't want to admit that. He slid into control so softly that she almost didn't notice, but in the next moment she was watching herself from the rear seats, being driven by someone else, so to speak.

"Make it brief," Delek insisted, speaking with her mouth and, god, that was strange. She shoved down the unpleasant reminder of the Goa'uld, and, unexpectedly, felt a flood of reassurance from the symbiote.

_Only for a few moments, I promise, _he told her.

"You said that you have not fully blended with the host?" the medic asked.

"That is correct."

"Yet according to our scans, your primary neural connections are already deeply embedded. Moreover, due to the injury you sustained, you are integrated with the spinal cord in a somewhat…awkward fashion."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"That if you try to leave your host now, you will almost certainly kill her, and probably yourself. You'll have to stay." She felt his sudden dismay and outrage.

"That is far from ideal," he told the medic, externally sounding his usual arrogant self, "But I suppose we must make the best of it. Thank you."

_Here, _he said to her, and suddenly she was driving again, _Kindly remove us from these premises. _She slipped off the bed and made to leave. Delek clearly wanted to get out of there and somewhere private, and, for once, she couldn't agree more.

Once they were safely back in the privacy of their room, she attempted to talk some reason into him, but he was in a magnificently towering rage.

_Why are you so bloody angry? You accepted my offer acknowledging yourself that this might happen. _There was a hesitation, and when he spoke, he sounded cold.

_I didn't consider it that likely, and at the time, there was no other choice. I can't believe I'm stuck with a Tau'ri host!_

_Thanks very much! Am I really so awful?!_

_So far, yes. _That did actually hurt, and she didn't reply for a moment, stung.

_Why? _she asked, trying not to sound forlorn.

_I'm sorry, _he replied, calming a little, _I didn't mean it quite like that. I have the greatest respect for you. You have a fine mind, and what you are prepared to do for my people is brave and generous. But the blending of two personalities is by no means a simple or straightforward thing: I have long considered that most Tau'ri, unaccustomed as they are to Goa'uld oppression, would make poor, even dangerous, hosts. _

_So what you're saying is,_ she accused,_ We're too wilful and independent. I'm sure Baal would agree with you. You know, when all the humans are free from the Goa'uld, then maybe they'll all get stubborn and ungovernable, and you'll be entirely out of 'suitable' hosts then, won't you? _That stung him back.

_You misunderstand. Such a situation of freedom would be completely different. As it stands at the moment, a host must be willing, as the symbiote is, to sacrifice a great deal of themselves for the cause. Operatives may need to act for months at a time without the host taking control. Those that have never known anything but freedom I suspect would have a difficult time of it, giving up so much of their real and concrete personal freedom for the abstract and intangible freedom of the future general good. _She wasn't entirely convinced by that, although she did see his point, to a certain degree.

_Why did you agree? _she asked again. Delek was glum.

_Simply put: I did not want to die. Nor did my beloved Kyen wish me to. But no, I must admit, it was the possibility of blending with a Tau'ri, rather than that of becoming a queen, that was the least appealing aspect. Still, I suppose we will, as you say, have to make do. We should blend fully. _She was entirely out of patience, entirely out of manners.

_Yeh well maybe I don't want to blend with you either. You going to make me? _She clearly felt Delek rein back his irritation.

_I realise that your past experience with the Goa'uld doubtless makes this a daunting process for you, however I assure you there is no need to be frightened. If you would just – _

_You stuck-up, sanctimonious prick! Why the hell would I want to blend with you? It's not like I don't have enough shit in my head already!_

_Insulting me will not make our problem go away._

_**Nothing**__ will make __**my**__ problems go away! But you at least can console yourself, _she told him angrily,_You won't have to put up with me for much longer. There are things I kept need-to-know as well, and you didn't need to know before. My chances of surviving this forthcoming metamorphosis are barely 30%, and that's with every damn intervention we could come up with to improve them from the near-certain-death they are without intervention. So unless you're really unlucky you'll be rid of me in a month or two, and can go find yourself a nice meek non-Tau'ri host. _With that, she slammed her mental doors and stubbornly shut him out.


	12. Chapter 12

[Thanks again for the reviews folks. Delek is a character I wish we'd got to know more during the show. In my reckoning, he has his good points and his bad, like everybody; this chapter, you get more of the good. Oh, and a technical note: for now I'm going to refer to Delek as 'he' because I was horribly confusing myself trying to write him as she!].

**Chapter 12**

_Eleanor…please. Speak to me._

Delek had been gently but persistently pushing to talk to her for over an hour. Her temper had cooled, but she was still…well, miserable, actually.

_I'm sorry, _he continued,_ I never would have agreed to this if I'd known what a danger it was to you. _He sounded genuinely stricken, and she relented at last, if not very graciously.

_Well, you can add it to the long list of reasons why you would never have blended with me then._

_Did you tell anyone on the Council? I cannot believe they would sanction it! We are no better than the Goa'uld if we would consider you expendable._ He was now angry on her behalf, confusingly enough. All told, they had spent most of the day angry and it was beginning to give her a headache.

_Oh don't you start. I already had this argument with Malek and Anise, and they agreed it was my choice._

_A choice you felt you had no choice in but acceptance is not much of choice._

_Knowledge imparts responsibility, _she said, as patronisingly as possible, and he was actually briefly amused.

_I was not your choice either, _he admitted.

_Well, neither was Neruk. They found him for me. No reason to know if that would have worked any better._

_At least I'm a member of the Council. They're not going to be able to make decisions affecting you without my word carrying weight. _He hesitated briefly, then asked, _Will you blend with me now? _She sighed.

_Must we?_

_Eleanor…_

_Look, is there really any point? Once the metamorphosis is underway you will lose much of the connection, and then after that, well…you'll probably have to leave anyway._

_There is every point! _He was vehement. _You are my host, for however long it may be, and anything less than a full blending would be as negligent on my part as not healing your wounds._

_Er, okay. You know, I really __**don't**__ understand you at times. _She didn't, either. At times when she most expected him to be annoying and arrogant, he was…almost sweet. At times when she most expected him to be nice, he was a complete shit!

_And it would be nice to solve that, _he pointed out, dryly, then explained, _You agreed to share your physical form with me. Not to share my mind with you is…beyond insult. Not to mention rather unnatural and uncomfortable; existing like this is something of a strain. Blending will be of benefit to us both; it may even help me keep you alive when it comes to it, for I will be completely in tune with your state of being._

_Oh._

_Eleanor. _His voice was very intense in her mind. _I will __**not **__give up on you, not before this has even started, not before you take your last breath. Never. I will fight to save you with everything I have._

_Why? _She was honestly bewildered. _You barely know me. You couldn't wait to get out of my head this morning!_

_You are my host, _he repeated patiently, as if that explained everything, _And, might I add, you do not have a monopoly on making selfless decisions for the benefit of other people. _Still, she hesitated.

_The memories I have, of the Goa'uld…I don't want to share them._

_Understandable. There is much in my memory I would spare you also. I will not 'look' at anything you deem private, but I want you to reconsider it, and it would be wise to do so before this change is upon us. They will not be so bad if I can share them with you, and help you._

_I need time. I need more time and there's never enough of it. _Her distress resurfaced with a vengeance, and she battled it back down, surprised again when that warm reassurance filled her mind once more.

_That works better – _

– _When we are blended, yes I get the picture. Well, what do I need to do?_

_Nothing, just lie back and relax. _

_Oh goody, my favourite. _She tried to sound confident but she knew she wasn't fooling anyone.

_It may be disorientating at first, but I will guide you. Trust me. _She took a deep breath. Trust: the hardest thing. And yet, not only did she not have a choice, she found she could not doubt his sincerity.

_All right._

* * *

She had braced herself for a sudden overwhelming flood of memory and shared emotion; in fact, it began merely as a trickle. An odd flash, here and there; disjointed recollections of former hosts and of Delek in his former hosts, the line oft blurred between them. The dumb wonder and joy of first blending, of treasured Simeon, a whole new way of being, a whole new world…Kyen, foremost in his mind: a laughing child splashing with his brothers in the stream; a precious memory, before the Jaffa came, before the dark time in Bastet's pleasure palace…the train of thought was abruptly terminated, and then she was in space, floating in a tel'tak above some quiet blue orb of a world, waiting, just waiting. She didn't know what she was waiting for or even who was doing the waiting, before it was snatched away. She felt Surya's delight and awe as she watched the crystal tunnels forming for the first time. She felt Delek's despair and anger over the escalating Tok'ra deaths; the overwhelming desire for caution and protective secrecy, for isolation. She saw Peruk, not as Peruk, but within Veriss, saw a love held fast over eighty years and three hosts between them, until the Goa'uld took Peruk too. She saw the Council, arguing, and a fractured alliance. Strangest indeed, she saw Delek waiting, alone, without a host, in a holding tank. She **was **Delek, alone; a part-blind creature in a murky green, silent world; a watery world of taste and muted sensation. A half-life; waiting, waiting, crying with loneliness with no one to hear; bereft. Then they'd brought him poor broken Kyen, and the memories cycled to the beginning, the joy and dumb wonder of first blending, Kyen in the stream…

He waited, then, checking to see if she was still with him, which she was, her earlier trepidation forgotten and curiosity in the ascendant again. She desired knowledge, and it flooded in; little photon packets of knowledge so numerous it lit her mind a sun; so swift and intangible it was like trying catch speeding thistledown. Then more memories came.

Seven hosts, eight hundred years; it was almost beyond imagining, and then she didn't have to imagine it anymore, because it was there, kaleidoscopic in her mind, rushing in such a torrent that she could not hold onto individual moments, but felt them in their entirety; embedding, absorbing, saturating her. She felt regrets without end, and a vast and alien mind that knew better than to limit itself to regret; she felt fleeting joys stretched to an eternity, still deep pools of scattered love amidst the stars, raining grief; running, always running, the thin silver strand of unbroken hope, the thick iron cord of resolve, and she understood. And at the last, she plunged still deeper, into the ancient, genetic memory of the Goa'uld, right back beyond the dawn of humanity. A vast ocean of memory-steeped time, and she was drowning in it. She struggled, panicking a little, then abruptly was lifted above it by the mind that contained that ocean within it, that somehow knew its denizens and currents and held the pattern in its consciousness, and was safely held, floating. The universe reeled and turned. Her entire life was but a pail of water in her hands. She emptied it into the ocean.

* * *

It seemed an age before she once more opened her eyes. She had literally no idea of how much time had passed in the real world whilst she was lost in centuries in her head. Reflexively, she snapped her arm up and glanced at her watch: 18:42. Only a couple of hours!

_But nearly dinnertime, _Delek's voice announced, hopefully. He was a singing cheerfulness in her mind, his grief over Kyen's death in abeyance for the moment, as much, she could feel, for her sake as his. She sat up, and groaned, putting her hands to her head.

_My head is killing me. I thought the headache would go._

_It will, give me a few minutes. Your brain just had a major synaptic reorganisation._

_Well I hope you know where you put everything, because I feel like the entire internet just got stored in my head._

_Not nearly enough pornographic material, _Delek pointed out, then added, sneakily, _Although certainly, I've never seen Malek and Darin quite like __**that**__ before._

"Oh god," she groaned out loud, cheeks flaming, "Trust you to look at that first. You're all as pervy as each other!" Delek thought that was funny.

_Well, at least you remembered to invest in, as you put it, a suitably handsome young man in advance. It's so cute how Malek's eyes flash when –_

_Delek! _She was aghast. _Do you mind? Actually, _she added, more worried now, _Do you mind? About, um, us? Do you think they will, about you? _She hadn't even begun to think through the implications of her blending before. They'd been so much else to worry about. Delek seemed supremely unconcerned, however.

_Not since I've seen that, I don't! _But he could sense his host fretting now, and reassured her, more soberly, _All your memories of them are most clear in your mind, not because they are recent, but because you love them so, and so do I. We love as one. You know that. You feel it. You're just not quite used to this yet. And no, I don't think they'd mind. They have known you would blend for some time, after all, and we have been friends for a long while. I have loved them a long time. _

That was true, and in the next moment she got completely absorbed by Delek's previous memories of Malek/Darin, and even Malek in his previous host, Althea. Poor Kyen had had something of a crush on Althea, but had never dared do anything about it; something Delek regretted he had not had time to address. He drew her out of her fascination after a little while.

_I may need a while to adjust to this, even if you don't, _Eleanor admitted, rather sheepishly, referring to Malek/Darin again.

_Of course. And yes, they'll understand. So, do you want to drive us to dinner or shall I?_

_Oh, go ahead. Try not to prang the car. _Delek snorted at that, and slid assuredly into control. She panicked. She outright panicked, and jerked violently where she sat on the bed as Delek instantly relinquished her body back to her.

_I'm sorry! _she gasped, completely mortified.

_It's all right, _the symbiote assured her, _It's quite all right. _Waves of soothing calm washed back over her like a sun-warmed sea.

_You're right, _she admitted, _That does work better like this._

_Of course I'm right, _Delek replied pompously, but she could tell he was teasing.

_I'm really sorry. I don't know why I did that. I was all right before. _She felt quite thoroughly ashamed of herself.

_Stop apologising, it's a perfectly normal reaction. _She was doubtful about that. _Even hosts who have not been abused by a Goa'uld frequently do that on first blending, _Delek persisted, _It's a reflex. The body isn't used to sharing; it will pass. I can drag up a whole suite of similar memories if you want, but I don't think it would be helpful. I can wait, as long as you need. _That was true as well, she realised; her symbiote's capacity for patience far exceeded her own, despite her initial impression of him.

_Thanks, but we may as well try and sort this out now. Maybe I was just unprepared for it. Let's have another go._

_Let me try something, _Delek suggested, and she nodded consent, cautiously. Slowly, ever so slowly, she felt him take control of her arms…and nothing else.

_I didn't know you could be that precise!_

_With a full blending, yes. _There was a distinct sense of mischief coming from her symbiote, but before she could work out what he was up to, her own hands came up to her sides…and tickled in her ribs! She dissolved into giggles.

_Hey! No fair!_ she protested, eventually, still laughing, and Delek stopped. _How does that work? _she wanted to know.

_It's ordinarily impossible to tickle yourself because your brain anticipates the sensation; in this case, I can maintain enough of a disconnect between action and sensation that it 'surprises' your brain enough for it to tickle._

_Tok'ra can tickle themselves? That is so cool! You should put that in your recruitment propaganda. You'd get lots more volunteers._

_Hmm. Maybe if we told former hosts about __**this**__ - _a rather explicit set of images and sensations floated across her mental landscape _– then we would._

_Woh! _

_Ready to try again, slowly this time?_

_Okay. _Somehow it seemed a lot easier this time, and she was quite comfortable. Delek got up and she was happy with him staying in control right until they walked into the refectory, when they switched back. Delek did insist on trying some of the odder things on the menu, however. They spotted Malek/Darin already there, both their spirits lifting, and took their meal over.

"So," Malek remarked drolly, apparently unconcerned about where they'd been and how they were doing, "Have you two stopped arguing yet?" They were both instantly annoyed by that.

"We're fine," Eleanor replied, eyes narrowing dangerously, then abruptly she grinned, as Delek supplied her with some **very **useful information. "Remember how you said **all **symbiotes did that little eye-flashing thing at certain, shall we say, intimate moments?" Malek abruptly looked rather wary.

"Did I?" he stalled. She jabbed a fork at him.

"Yes, and you were lying!"


	13. Chapter 13

[Glad you're all appreciating Delek's softer side, even though he very much hasn't lost his annoying traits ;) I've got one more chapter after this before we reach the end of part 3 (there's 5 parts in total...I did warn you it was going to be a long story!). Part 4 may take me a little longer to upload because it needs some editing, but hopefully not too much longer].

**Chapter 13.**

After much more arguing, it was decided that it would be safest for them to stay at the SGC for the time being. Anyway, the remaining Tok'ra needed to find and set up a new primary base. That was the source of much of the argument – where, now, was safe? How had Baal found their last location? It would be better to spread themselves between multiple bases, as they customarily did, but now that their numbers were further depleted, would those bases also be fewer in number, o rmuch smaller, and with a different organisation? And what of when (if) baby symbiotes arrived? Where would be safe for them? It dragged on and on. Delek, as a member of the High Council, had to be present for most of the meetings, resulting in Eleanor largely taking a back seat and getting very bored indeed (except when Delek was being his more obnoxious self, when she got irritated at him). Stargate Command and the Free Jaffa, in the meantime, became rapidly absorbed in the rising problem of Anubis and the hordes of Kull warriors that were threatening to turn the tide back in favour of the Goa'uld.

Apart from the larger situation, their only duty was to wait. Waiting, again; in this case for the metamorphosis to be triggered, and suffering the proddings and pokings of various scientists and doctors in the process. They were both nervous about it. Their simulations had indicated it would take at least three weeks; Eleanor tried to recall exactly how long the process had taken with the Goa'uld, but her sense of time had been completely distorted whilst she was trapped within her body – she admitted to being completely suppressed at some points, not even conscious, but that was as much as she would admit. Delek was adamant about dealing with her memories of the Goa'uld more thoroughly than she had; but she needed more time, and, doubtfully, Delek agreed to it, and did not pry in that section of her memories that were shut off. Instead, they focussed on re-establishing their relationship with Malek/Darin, re-defining the parameters now the dynamics had necessarily changed, which at least felt like a worthwhile way to spend the time.

A month after blending, and still nothing had happened. It was getting embarrassing, frankly. It would be just typical if – after all this – it simply didn't work. Typical – and awful. The medics had monitored a slow build-up of the chief metamorphosis-inducing hormone in Delek's system, but it seemed to have plateaued. Anise/Freya engaged in regular heated arguments about whether trying injections of hormone would help kick-start the process. They started avoiding the infirmary. Frasier's needles were frightening enough.

A few days later, one of the nightmares returned to haunt her. Awakened by his host's distress, Delek gently drew her out of it, nudged her to wakefulness. Eleanor had by this time stopped questioning the symbiote's watchful protectiveness, but was grateful nonetheless.

_Thanks. I'm sorry if I woke you._

_Not at all. Dinosaurs eh? That's a new one on me. Still, they seem a rather classic monster archetype, although I do feel I ought to point out that they don't actually exist anymore. _Eleanor sighed, unbothered by her symbiote's usual abrasiveness, knowing it was underlaid by a genuine concern.

_Yeh, well, one less extinction event on this planet and you might have found yourself with a seriously toothy host. _Delek thought that was uniquely, humanly funny, and supplied her with a mental image of Selmak stomping about in a grumpy bone-headed dinosaur, so that she laughed too.

_What is it with you two? Still, it's nice not having to fight them by myself, _she admitted, appeased by his was more than 'nice', truth be told. The first time Delek had soothed her dreams, she had almost cried. It had never occurred to her that it was possible, let alone that he'd bother. She should have known better. Delek was many annoying things, but he was ever mindful of his hosts.

_It's probably at least partially my fault, _admitted Delek, _I've been a bit…down today._

_Kyen? _Eleanor queried, although she already knew the answer, and she offered a mental hug, albeit something of a tentative one. Delek was pleased anyway; she hadn't done that before. Delek's grief had caught up with them the last few days; it wasn't anything he hadn't had to go through before, but being capable of dealing with it in no way lessened the emotions, and in this instance it was tinged with the extra regret that Delek felt; that he had not been able to do more for him. There hadn't been time to heal all the trauma from Kyen's past life as a slave. Bitterness too, and more pain, over all the extra Tok'ra deaths, at their perilously low numbers. Not to mention all the burden of expectation on them now.

_I really wish we could get out of here and away from everyone, _Delek grumbled, _Those doctors keep doing tests and telling us what to do, but they have no idea what they're talk about. They're really starting to get on my nerves._

_I noticed. You nearly bit Reyan's head off this morning._

_Hmph, _was Delek's succinct response to that, refusing (as usual) to admit that he'd been in the wrong there. _Everybody is staring at us as if they expect us to sprout two heads! _

_Tell me about it. _She sighed again, glancing over at Malek/Darin, who were fast asleep beside them. She yielded to the temptation to fuss with the light curls of his hair, and snuggled in closer to his sleep-warm body. He wrapped an arm around her, unconsciously, but did not wake. She by contrast was quite alert, mind turning.

_I think we should look at some of those memories of yours, _Delek prompted, unexpectedly.

_I'd rather wake up the Malek and Darin, _she offered instead, but Delek was not going to be distracted.

_Make a start, _he insisted.

_I don't want to recall anything of her, _Eleanor persisted, stubborn as always.

_Well…how about before, but after you were captured? _Delek suggested, compromising. Eleanor hesitated, then gave in.

_Well try this one on for size, _she sent, and deliberately recalled that moment of her failed escape attempt, when she'd run round the corner, smack into Baal, and punched him.

_You __**punched**__ Baal? _Delek exclaimed, highly amused.

_I thought you'd appreciate that, _Eleanor replied, dryly.

_Wait a minute, I didn't quite get it all. Let's see it again! Now, if I could only find the slow-motion button on the remote here…_

_It's not that great, _Eleanor commented, feeling embarrassed, _I bruised my knuckles and didn't even dent his ego._

_You'd need a ha'tak going at light speed to achieve that. Now give me the context._

_Oh all right. _They watched through her entire escape attempt.

_It's a damn farce, is what it is, _said Eleanor, bitterly, _A complete comedy._

_Yes, is is rather, _Delek agreed, laughing in her head. She was hurt for a moment, then, eventually, saw the funny side too.

_Why so ashamed? _Delek asked her, gently, _The odds of success even for a trained operative would have been low. At least you tried. I'm willing to bet nobody else made any attempt whatsoever. Baal probably didn't even have to lock the doors for the others, so inured would they have been to total obedience. _Eleanor had to admit, seen in review, it didn't seem so shabby or so shameful, but it **was** ridiculous, and Delek was right to laugh. Laughing made it better. But when she remembered herself being dragged down into the lab and strapped down to the table, she balked.

_The next bit isn't so funny, _she confessed, trying to pull back.

_I'm sure it's not, but it __**is**__ over. _

_I can't face this. _She hated sounding so weak, but dammit, it was bad enough the first time, and she'd spent what felt like every moment that wasn't occupied by thought or action since then, before she blended, trying not to let it repeat endlessly in her head. And now Delek **wanted** it to repeat, like some ghastly horror movie? Didn't the symbiote have enough bad memories, without adding this to the mix?

_You faced it before, you can face it now. The Goa'uld was a coward: it didn't face you. They never do. _She took some sort of courage from both the statement, and the supreme confidence with which it was uttered, as Delek no doubt intended, and persevered.

_All right. But no further. Not yet._

_Agreed. _So they went through the whole sorry business of the Goa'uld implantation. Strange what things stuck in the mind: she recalled vividly the cold metal of the table and its texture beneath her fingertips. Other things were more obvious to recall: the rising terror, that ghastly slithering on her back; the agonising pain. And then, over all, a tide of blackness that suffocated her as surely as a blanket over her face.

It was Delek who stopped the flood of memory that threatened to overwhelm her. restored her fragile mental dams, brought her back to herself; held safe and protected in his devoted mental embrace.

_Don't be hurt on my behalf, _Eleanor said at last, sensing the sharp anger and brief shared pain of her symbiote.

_How can I not be? Even for a Goa'uld…that was brutal. _But the feelings ebbed slowly; in both of them.

_It's over now anyway._

_I fear I pushed you too far, _Delek admitted, fretting somewhat still. Eleanor pulled herself together with an effort.

_The worst of it is, _she confessed at last, _That isn't nearly the worst part._

_I know. _

_But at least I have my memories of blending with you to replace it with. _Delek was inordinately pleased at that; touched, even. Soothed by each other's thoughts, by each other's presence, they drifted back to sleep.

Things were somewhat less harmonious the next morning. Delek had stormed out of a meeting with the Council in a fit of pique, and when Malek/Darin found them in the refectory, they had already eaten three bowls of blue jello.

"Bad day already?" Darin queried, eyebrows raised at the quivering mass of bowl number four. Eleanor had clearly had enough, and taking control back, dropped the spoon into the splodgy mess with a grimace.

"I think somebody got up the wrong side of my head this morning," she growsed, making Darin laugh at the odd image. "Honestly. You should have heard what he called Selmak. I am so embarrassed that ever came out of **my **mouth – and now look what he's been putting **in **it! I hate this stuff!"

"Sugar craving," Delek supplied grumpily, retaking the spoon. Darin raised his eyebrows at what was clearly a heated internal debate that ended along the lines of: 'three bowls is quite enough thank you'. The spoon was dropped again.

"Why don't we go for a walk on the surface?" Darin suggested, offering an escape.

"Good idea," Eleanor replied, clearly jumping at the chance.

It had been raining earlier in the day, but the clouds had cleared and, with the sun out, it was almost warm. Eleanor inhaled a deep lungful of air.

"That's better," she said, releasing a pent-up sigh, "I don't mind telling you, we're going stir-crazy down there."

"We noticed," Darin replied, keeping his tone light and teasing. There wasn't really anywhere to go, but they walked around the base of the mountain, amidst the scraggly trees. There were well-worn paths where SGC personnel liked to go to find their fresh air too; now dotted with puddles. Eleanor walked briskly along gravelly track, hands reaching out to touch the trees. They followed silently.

"I like it just after it rains," she remarked, almost to herself, "The air smells so nice."

"What did you say to Selmak?" Darin wanted to know, and Eleanor groaned.

"I'm not repeating it! I'm still trying to talk Delek into going back down and apologising!" Her head dipped briefly, and then it was Delek looking at them, with an affronted expression, clearly believing himself to be the injured party.

"I quite rightly called him a – " Abruptly, he stuttered to a halt, then Eleanor's eyes rolled back in her head, and she keeled straight over before they could catch her.

"Delek!" Darin yelled, alarmed, reaching to help her up.

"Something's wrong," it was Eleanor gasping to reply, "Oh god, something's wrong…I can't hear him."

"Maybe it's started," Malek offered, as she struggled to her feet, then lost her balance again. He picked her up.

"Wasn't like this last time," Eleanor slurred, eyes fluttering shut. "S'gone wrong…gone wrong...."

_Quickly! _Darin urged him, as frantic as he was, and they ran with her back down to the entrance, calling to the guards for help.

"One…" Eleanor was muttering, "One, two….". Then she passed out completely.


	14. Chapter 14

[Last chapter for part 3. I hope to sort out part 4 soon; it's a little on the surreal side in places and switches viewpoints a lot, so it needs some serious editing].

**Chapter 14.**

A cloud of anxious Tok'ra hovered constantly round the infirmary, bothering the nurses, until Dr Frasier had ordered everyone to wait outside, although she'd taken pity on Malek/Darin. They were already sick of hearing the doctors argue over what had happened. They **thought **that the hormone had been concentrating in just one part of Delek's system, until it triggered the metamorphosis, but it was just speculation, they didn't **know**. Neither did they know what, exactly, was happening. Both Eleanor and Delek remained unconscious. They had been so for over twenty-four hours. But they were, at least, stable.

Dr Frasier bustled in with some clipcharts.

"All right, bottom line: the metamorphosis is definitely underway. The symbiote has retracted most of its connections with the host, apart from basic autonomic functions. If you look at the MRI, here, you can see the symbiote has curled up on itself and is beginning to re-organise its body plan. We don't know why they've lost consciousness, but neither appears to have suffered any other ill-effects and they're stable for now. It's possible that Delek realised what was happening and did this deliberately, to leave Eleanor in charge whilst he was changing. The Goa'uld would have been struggling to maintain control, which may be why it's different. I'm hoping Eleanor will wake up soon; her brain activity is a little abnormal, but that may be feedback from the symbiote. There's no reason for her to be suffering any ill-effects at this stage."

"And later?" Malek asked, grimly. Dr Frasier took a deep breath.

"Within the next 24 hours, the symbiote will lose its ability to control the host's immune system: shortly after that, we can expect a massive immune reaction to occur. I'm going to shift them to a sterile isolation room and start them on immunosuppressant drugs within the next couple of hours; it'll be much better to try and stop any reaction before it starts." She paused, noting that some of the Tok'ra and other SGC personnel had edged back into the room: notably Jacob/Selmak, Anise/Freya and SG1.

"The metamorphosis itself should take about a week to fully complete," Freya spoke up. "Keeping the host's immune system suppressed is frankly going to be the easy part. At our best estimate, after about five days will come the critical danger point. The symbiote form will be undergoing a lot of radical changes at this point. At this time, it will shed part of its old larval body, and it is likely that some symbiote poison will leak into the host system. We must try and keep her alive until the end of the metamorphosis." Dr Frasier looked like she was about to add something she didn't want to say.

"You should make preparations to bring the spare host here as soon as possible, so we can give her some medication that may ease implantation," she pointed out, "Delek may have to leave Eleanor in a hurry when this is completed, and will be very weak."

"Woh, **spare host?**" O'Neill blurted out, "What the hell you talking about?" Freya, Dr Frasier and Malek shared a glance. They had agreed that this was the moment when the secrecy ended; but they knew it wouldn't be an easy conversation.

"The host's chances of surviving the metamorphosis stand at less than 8%, without intervention. With the best we could come up with, it's still only around 30%. Delek's are around 90% now."

"What!" O'Neill shouted, "You're **killing **her to get yourselves a fricking queen?!"

"She knew the risks," Freya was instantly on the defensive, "She insisted on proceeding."

"Yeh, cos she felt she had no choice after she made that offer to the Council. Jacob, I can't believe you let her go through with this! Malek, that's your girlfriend dying in there!"

"We didn't know!" protested Jacob, looking as shocked as the rest of them.

"Quiet!" Malek insisted, as the voices began to reach an indignant crescendo. He took a deep breath. He'd expected this, but he was angry anyway.

"Eleanor already knew how low the odds were **before **she informed the Council about the metamorphosis. Anise and I both tried to talk her out of it, but it was her choice to make the offer anyway, and it was her choice to go through with this. It was also her insistence that it be kept secret from anyone who had no immediate need to know. I apologise Jacob, Selmak: you were not personally excluded, the whole Council was. She considered it a private matter, and had no wish to argue her decision with anyone."

"Oh for crying out loud, you expect me to believe that she'd put herself through this **willingly?**"

"Jack, it's her choice," Daniel put in, "And she must have known it would be controversial, which is why she didn't tell anyone."

"We begged her to reconsider," Anise supplied, "And to inform the Council, but she was adamant."

"Yeh right," O'Neill muttered, and Malek's temper finally snapped, despite Darin trying to hold it back. He walked right up to the Colonel, staring him down with fists clenched and jaw working.

"If you cannot believe any good of us," he snarled, eyes flashing dangerously, "Then at least believe me capable of selfishness. That is, as you so needlessly remind me, my mate lying there. Do you not think I did everything I could to talk her out of this?" O'Neill seemed to realise he had gone too far, and looked down, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

"I guess. Look, I'm sorry. Just hate surprises, remember?" Malek made no reply, and consented to let Jacob prudently pull him away, still glowering.

"Right," Dr Frasier decided to take control, "I need to get my patient seen to, so I want this room cleared. Malek, you can stay and give me a hand."

"Of course," he murmured, grateful for her sensitivity.

"Look, Janet," Sam spoke up, "Maybe there's something else we can come up with that might help them. Why don't you give us all the data you have and we can get as many heads on it as possible?"

"Sure. Freya?"

"We will show you what we have," Freya replied, also clearly glad to escape the tension in the room.

The hours, and then the days, crept by mercilessly slowly. Dr Frasier was the only one who initially seemed upbeat about it, and, probably, her assessment was more rational and on-target than that of some of the Tok'ra, who, for once, were having a harder time separating their emotions from their work.

The immunosuppressant treatment had worked better than expected. Neither Dr Stewart nor Delek woke up at all, which was puzzling, but didn't seem to be posing any other problems, as such. Anise thought that Delek, at least, was conscious part of the time, but, being unable to control the host body, there was no way of knowing for sure, or communicating with him. Fortunately, he showed no inclination to instinctively leave his host, as the Goa'uld had; it seemed that this reaction had been more to do with the loss of control than for any other reason. The metamorphosis itself proceeded apace and more or less as predicted. They were beginning to become more optimistic, but there was still that moulting process to get through. Surgery was even mooted as an option to remove the dead tissue without releasing any symbiote poison (or, indeed, leaving tissue lying around to further trigger immune or other problems). However, that was clearly vetoed: it was far too delicate, and the immunocompromised nature of the host made it a risky option in any case.

"Dialysis!" announced Sam triumphantly, as she burst into the infirmary one day.

"What is dialysis?" Malek wanted to know, straightaway.

"A method of purifying the blood by passing it through a sophisticated membrane, in the event of kidney failure," Dr Frasier explained, "But there's nothing wrong with her kidneys."

"There will however be something wrong with her blood if the symbiote poison gets into her system," Sam pointed out, "If we could modify a dialysis machine to remove the symbiote poison, it should get rid of it before it can do any damage."

"Well that's a great idea but I don't know if a dialysis membrane can filter out the poison," Frasier pointed out.

"Even if it can't, we could modify it or design a new type of filter that could do it, I am sure," Freya supplied, excitedly.

"Great, well, let's get to it then."

Day five. The image of the symbiote on the monitor spasmed, contorted, and suddenly a great chunk of it broke away. Seconds later, all hell broke loose; the symbiote went into some sort of fit, then the host had some sort of fit, and went into anaphylactic shock, which should have been nearly impossible given the amount of immunosuppressants she was on. Then she went into cardiac arrest. Dr Frasier and her team fought through the night to keep them both alive, resuscitating them five times in all; the modified dialysis machine worked, but the symbiote poison was so deadly that it did its damage before they could remove it. By the time the sixth day dawned, the host's kidneys had actually failed, the liver was going, and more was on the way out. Malek/Darin sat by the bed in a crashed out despair, their hopes newly crushed, whilst Dr Frasier called a council of war.

"Right," she stated bluntly, "Delek is doing all right. He's completed most of the metamorphosis and is starting to regrow the tendrils that connect him to the host. Dr Stewart, in her current state, is critical. We've got her on full life-support, but I don't know how long it will be enough. It's a race against time. We've done the best we can for her, but she's going to go into multiple organ failure, followed by brain death, within the next twelve hours." She took a deep breath.

"The only thing that can save her now is her symbiote. If Delek is able to re-establish control over the host body within that time, he ought to be able to stop the immune problems, and repair the damage – **if **he is strong enough. However there's a strong possibility Eleanor will be too ill for him to heal by then, and he will need to find another host. I'm sorry, that's the best I can offer." Nobody knew what to say to that.

"What about her family?" Daniel asked at last, "I mean, her parents and brothers at least signed the non-disclosure agreement, they already know. Can we get them here?"

"She asked that they not be told in the event of the procedure going wrong," Hammond informed them, solemnly, "Not until after the fact. I'm about to ignore her wishes and call them anyway, though I don't know if I can get them here in time."

The hours ticked by. Eleanor continued to steadily deteriorate. All Malek/Darin could do was sit by her and hold her hand, knowing she probably didn't even feel it, and stare at the monitors that showed Delek's slow but steady progress, willing the symbiote to hurry, to save himself, to save his host; to save both of them. Slowly, certain flashing instrument lights turned from red to green, and that was only the warning they had.

"Malek?" came a cracked, flanged voice.

"Delek!" he exclaimed, faint with relief, but still frightened, and pushed the button for help.

"Eleanor…." Delek whispered, staring wildly around the infirmary, as though she were somewhere else, "I cannot reach her…she does not respond."

"She is very sick. Are you re-blended? Can you heal her?" But Delek did not reply for a moment. Frasier and a whole battalion of medics came running in.

"Delek, can you hear me?" she questioned. A pause.

"Yes, I can hear you." His voice was oddly flat. "My host is sick. You must help her. I cannot hear her." Dr Frasier glanced at the monitors.

"Delek, Eleanor is critically ill. She has multiple organ failure and I've done all I can for her. I don't know if you can fix her. Your own stats are still very weak."

"I will fix her. I must. Give me time." His eyes closed again. Malek glanced anxiously at Dr Frasier, who shrugged helplessly.

More waiting. Tok'ra and Tau'ri alike lined the corridor outside the infirmary. Eleanor's condition improved noticeably; but Delek was clearly getting progressively weaker.

"Delek," Anise said at last, avoiding looking at Malek/Darin, "Delek, if you can hear me, I have to recommend that you leave your host now. You will barely have enough to strength to blend with another as it is. I'm sorry but you cannot save her now. Dr Frasier concurs."

"No," came the faintest whisper, "Not yet…more time…" She went out to inform the other Tok'ra.

"I was afraid this would happen," Selmak said, sighing, "Delek has always had a...strong attachment to his hosts."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," O'Neill remarked, although not with his usual accusatory tone. They were all too tired to snipe at each other now.

"When it goes beyond all rational decision then it can be, yes," said Selmak. "Before he blended with Kyen, Delek spent over a month in a holding tank because he'd refused to leave his last host until well after it was too late. He nearly died then. I fear he may take the same risk now."

"But he knows what's at stake," Anise insisted, "And he knows Eleanor would not wish it."

"Falon didn't wish it either," was Selmak's retort.

More hours passed. It was now the eighth day since the metamorphosis had begun. Doggedly, stubbornly, Delek managed to pull Eleanor back from the brink, without killing himself in the process, reversing the organ failure and stabilising her systems enough that she was no longer on life support.

"Perhaps, as a queen, Delek has greater healing abilities, or greater reserves of strength," Freya speculated.

"Perhaps it was all that blue jello," O'Neill suggested, the first joke anybody had cracked in days. Still, though, their condition remained critical, and Dr Frasier was now concerned at the odd EEG readings she was getting from the host: they all feared some delicate brain damage; far harder for a symbiote to heal. At the end of the eighth day, her improvements had levelled off. Perhaps Delek had finally reached his limit. Then, they began to get worse again.

"I don't understand it!" Janet exclaimed, in exhausted frustration, "She was getting better!"

An hour later, they had to make a difficult decision once more.

"Delek." Anise tried, for several seconds, to reach him.

"I'm busy!" came the waspish reply, so characteristically Delek that Darin even smiled a little, painfully. He was trying not to look at the woman standing quietly in the corner of the infirmary. The standby.

"Delek. I have to tell you, your host is worsening again. It is time for you to leave. We have another host here for you."

"I will not abandon my host!" was the angry response.

"You're not. You've fought beyond all reasonable means to save her, but it's not working anymore."

"I think **I'll** be the judge of that." Delek was clearly not about to give in.

"Delek," Janet tried, "Her lifesigns are deteriorating again, and her brainwaves are all wrong…she suffered several cardiac arrests and what with the oxygen deprivation and symbiote poison…I'm not even sure how much of her is there anymore."

"She is there!"

"Are you sure?" Malek was intent, "Can you sense her?"

"Faintly," Delek admitted.

"Delek," Selmak tried next, "You have to go. She made this choice knowing what might happen. The last thing she would want is for you to die trying to save her, and for all of this to have been for nothing. She will live on, in you."

"What do **you **know of what she wants?" Delek blazed, as if he had passed out still angry at Selmak, and come to in exactly the same state eight days later, "She wanted none of this. None of it!" He took a deep, pained breath; spoke in more measured tones, but none the less impassioned for it, "She wanted a quiet life. A scholarly position in the university that had opened her mind and cradled her intellect; respected amongst her peers and liked by her students, contributing in some small way to the advance of knowledge. This was the extent of her modest ambitions. A husband, her own children, a circle of friends; the whole, heartfelt sum of her human longings and human desires. She dreamed of other worlds, of other beings, but retained the wisdom to know that she would be happiest if they remained forever imaginary; in books and in her mind.

"Then Baal took her, and everything changed. And because her mind was as keen as her tutors said it was, and because her kindness was greater than even her mother would declare it to be, she came to us, and gave us everything, including her life. She wanted none of this, but she did it anyway. Should I abandon her now, when she needs me most?"

"Nobody's suggesting you abandon her, but if you can't save her, then there's no choice left."

"I must fix what has been broken," Delek insisted.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"The Goa'uld."

"But she's gone."

"The damage she has done is not gone, and it is this that imprisons my host. She should have regained consciousness before: that she has not points to some darker and more subtle injury than I at first suspected. The Goa'uld did something to her mind, altered it somehow…something unspeakably malevolent. I knew there was something else…but I could not find it before."

"But you have access to all her memories, including those she has of the Goa'uld, right?" said Daniel. Delek sighed.

"Access, yes; permission, no. We had only begun to process them," he said.

"An error on your part," accused Selmak, but Delek didn't rise to it.

"She needed time. Should I have forced her? More time, for everything she should have had more time, but there was never any time…" he trailed off, muttering.

"Delek," Anise said at last, "We don't understand what you're talking about. All we know is that your host will die, and you will die with her if you don't leave."

"Ah yes," Delek murmured, "My host. The escapist. She who has filled her head with constructed fantasies and imaginings beyond any I have known. The one who escaped the Goa'uld, at what cost you will never know. Imagination breeds fear, it's nightmares as salient as it's dreams. There is a fear still there, in that place that I have not touched, and she knew it would claim her in the end. Still, she did not deny us.

"She is suffering, now, suffering beyond all compare, but not beyond all remembrance, and her own mind is too wounded to defend her. The metamorphosis has awakened the memory of flesh, and it speaks to the torment of her mind. She does not feel me. She is trapped in her memories of the Goa'uld. She experiences nothing, remembers nothing, but the Goa'uld. Should I leave her there? Should I let her die like that? I ask you again: would you have me break our highest creed, and abandon my host, when most she needs me?" An appalled silence filled the room. Freya was actually crying.

"Then save her," Malek said, leaning forward urgently, "Save her, if you can, and if you cannot, then do not let her die so."

"Give me time," said Delek, "As much as you can, and then wait a little longer still. I must go deep within her mind."

"To do what?" Anise asked.

"To find the monster responsible for all this: the Red Queen."

Then his eyes closed again, and silence descended, apart from the steady, slowing blip of the monitors.

[End Part IV].


	15. Chapter 15

[Thank you again guys for the nice reviews :) I'm glad Delek seems to be growing on you folks ]

**Notes: **Okay, so I'm trying to make this as non-confusing as possible. Please tell me if I'm failing. Most of part 4 takes place inside Eleanor's minds, covering memories of the time she the goa'uld took her over through to when she rejoined the SGC; none of which we've heard about before, plus also some earlier memories and Delek trying to reach her. There are also interludes in the infirmary, in real time; these should be pretty obvious. I previously explored what a Tok'ra blending would be like; now I'm looking at the flip side of the coin, possession by a goa'uld. Obviously, this is very dark, but I'm not explicit in any way.

The Red Queen **speaks like this in Eleanor's mind **because, you know, she's evil, and I need to distinguish her from the Tok'ra.

**PART 4**

'Paradise is eternally present and so is hell. Time blurs them, crowds them in so close together that salvation and damnation are one. Memory is like being outside time. It can separate them. Memory shows us what heaven is like, where nothing ever happens. It shows us that moment when desire achieves its end, and stays touching, holding the thing it loves, forever. Memory enslaves us, preserving the horror, bending us to it, moulding us to it. Memory is purgatory. To be saved or damned you have to be outside time. You have to step out of this life'. (Geoff Ryman; The Child Garden).

'Thought alone can make monsters, but the affections cannot'. (William Blake; Annotations to Emanuel Swedenborg's Wisdom of Angels Concerning Divine Love and Divine Wisdom).

**Chapter 15**

_Adrift upon an ocean of memory; a floating bottle of hidden thoughts. A little stoppered flask of recollection. Saved, kept apart. Bracing himself, Delek opened it, and blood washed into the ocean, a dark stain that spread without diluting…wider, and wider…_

Delek swam into it, seeking, seeking…Memories, in the mind of a human, were both interlinked and randomly dispersed. A chain leading from one to the other oft seeming to have no connection, no temporal ordering. It would take time…and he didn't know if he had enough. Urgently, he sought…

//Suffocation. Absolute, smothering, agonised suffocation//

_I believe you would pity even a Goa'uld._

Beth was loudly banging on her door again, in a way that suggested that she wasn't about to leave anytime soon. Eleanor hesitated, then remembered that was her who'd asked her round, after all.

"So what we watching?" Beth invited herself in, arms laden with things to eat and drink, and plonked on the sofa in the darkened living room, distributing various goodies on the coffee table in front of her. Eleanor sighed.

"Alien,"

"Again? God, you must have watched that film a thousand times."

"It's my favourite. You said it was my choice." Beth gave her a look. Or a Look, rather. One that she was intimately familiar with and that suggested she wasn't getting let off the hook anytime soon.

"Well, call me radical," Beth said, pointedly, "But if I'd just been through what you'd just been through, a film about an alien parasite killing everybody is about the **last **thing I'd want to watch."

"It's my comfort film," Eleanor persisted, smiling.

"Has anybody ever told you you're weird?" A laugh.

"Yeh, you, at least six times a week. Hand over the beer."

//Suffocation. Absolute, smothering, agonising suffocation.//

At last, she woke. She jumped in startled panic – except that she didn't move. She was completely paralysed. She could neither move nor feel. She didn't even know if she was standing or lying down. She was disembodied, floating above events as if she were dreaming – but she wasn't disembodied. She was still **in **her body. She was **locked **in her body. And whatever events were happening, were not happening to her. She couldn't see them, couldn't hear, feel, touch, taste them. She couldn't even feel herself. She could only assume she was still there, because her mind needed her brain to exist. '_Body am I entirely, and soul is only another word for something about the body'. _Without the body, the mind is nothing, and the body – was gone. There was just the suffocating vacuum of nothing and her mind trapped in nothing, thrashing as if against the walls of her skull. She had never known fear so absolute, so complete, so pure: fear of the mind without the body; fear without adrenaline, without pumping heart and quickened breath and darting eyes, without speech – fear and fear alone, rising and rising….and no way out, not even death.

When she regained consciousness, she didn't know if she had even lost it again. She didn't know that time had passed, or what had happened in it, except that the fear had peaked, and now it had lessened again, from unbearable, to only nearly so. She was still in her vacuum world. Her nothing existence. Fear rose; pure fear and fear alone, rising and rising….

How many times had she awoken? How many times had she crested the wave of fear, and crashed down upon shores of despair, then risen and crested again? She had crossed an ocean of terror, ridden every wave of fear. A lifetime. An eternity. With no way of measuring time, each cycle could have taken hours, days, or only fractions of seconds. She was still here, in the nothing.

'_Hell is oneself. Hell is alone'. _Fear rose, and rose….and – no! She had to stop this. She had to find a way out. It couldn't last forever. Nothing lasted forever. She could still think, somehow. The brain was still there. The mind, was still there. She existed in nothing, but her thoughts were still there. Her thoughts were not nothing. They were something. They were, if nothing else, a measure of time passing. She forced herself to still. Even terror wears itself out, if only for a brief moment of time. The mind couldn't exist that way continuously: that was why she kept cycling between consciousness and oblivion. All things considered, oblivion was preferable, but she kept waking up from oblivion and getting back there the worst way possible. Think, think, think!

She had been invaded by some huge ghastly parasite. She knew that much. She remembered that much. It had obviously cut her off from every sensation and control of her body, but it had not destroyed her mind. Perhaps it couldn't, because then it would have to destroy her brain itself, and the body would then die. The neural connections were gone, but the neural structures had to be intact. She had no idea what it was doing to her body. Maybe it was like one of those parasitic wasps that laid its eggs in the body of caterpillars (which unfortunately she knew far too much about), and then the eggs hatched and the offspring ate their way out of the caterpillar. _Thanks for that image, _she told herself, adding utter revulsion to the omnipresent fear. Well, positive side: if that was what was happening, then at some point, she'd definitively die. And she wasn't in any pain. Not yet anyway. Pain would almost be welcome at this point. At least it would be sensation. How long could a mind exist without sensation, anyway? _Dear god,_ _how long must this go on for? Let me die! Let me die! _Fear began to rise, and she was helpless to resist it…

Dr Frasier bustled back into the infirmary with the latest batch of lab results in her hands.

"How are they doing?" everyone was asking at once.

"Not good," she admitted, "Although at least they're not going downhill as fast as they were. Delek seems to have been able to stabilise Eleanor a little for now, but I don't know how long she can keep it up. The symbiote herself is doing all the work right now."

"So she's definitely a, uh, **she** now then huh?" Jack asked. "I mean, that part at least went right, right doc?" Frasier nodded.

"Well, strictly speaking, she's a hermaphrodite now. She and he, I guess."

"See, all this she/he business is really confusing me," he said plaintively, "Don't you guys get confused?" That last comment seemed to be aimed at Jacob, but it was Daniel who leapt to reply.

"Actually, Jack, it's just the limitations of our language that make everything confusing."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, in goa'uld, the pronouns for symbiotes are all gender neutral, although what's really interesting is that the Tok'ra dialect has developed a whole extra set of grammatical constructions that allow you to assign gender according to host, that is if you want, otherwise you can stick with the neutral terms. Not only that –

" – Oh god, there's **more**?"

" – But their spoken and written language has one case for when the host is speaking, one for when it's the symbiote, and one for when it's both together, effectively." O'Neill was giving his best dumb look.

"So…what do I call her then? Him? It?"

"Well I could always teach you…"

"Oh would you? That'd be great. It'd take me, what, like, twenty years to get that all sorted out straight?"

"Ask them when they wake up," Malek interrupted, somewhat fiercely, and they subsided from their usual banter, a little guiltily.

"I wonder what she did. The Red Queen," Sam speculated, "I mean, could she somehow subtly alter her neurological connections or brain chemistry or something?"

"Possibly," said Anise, "Although what effect this would have would depend on what was done."

"This is not what happened last time," Teal'c supplied. "Therefore, something must be different."

"But is it just that this time it's a Tok'ra she's blended with? I mean, that's a subtly different neurological interaction right there."

"From Eleanor's EEG, I'd almost say that she was dreaming," Frasier told them, "Except that on every other measurement I can make, she's in a deep coma." They pondered that for a moment.

"When Hathor was going to put that snake in my head," Jack said, sounding reluctant, "She said that the torment a goa'uld can inflict on its host was exquisite. Tell me she was lying." The Tok'ra abruptly looked quite uncomfortable.

"Unfortunately she was not," Anise said at last; she was better at being bluntly truthful than Malek or Selmak.

"Er…define torment," Daniel asked, sounding clearly like he didn't want to know the answer.

"Define it as many ways as you can imagine it," Jacob responded, his face grim.

"A goa'uld has complete control over not only the motor, but also the sensory functions of the nervous system," Anise continued, dispassionately. "In most cases, the goa'uld either suppresses the host entirely, in which case they are effectively not at all conscious, or they suppress just the motor control and some of the sensory input, in which case the host may be aware of their surroundings: usually they are able to see and hear what is going on, and sometimes retain their sense of touch, but are of course unable to act."

"Why would they do either?" Daniel wanted to know. "I mean, is that 'tormenting the host', or what?"

"That depends on the goa'uld," Selmak answered, "Some may find it less effort to only partially suppress the host. In fact, when we talk of suppression, this is not entirely accurate; it is in a certain light better viewed as a re-routing of input from the host's body to the symbiote's brain, and output from the symbiote's brain to the host's body. Some may prefer to suppress them entirely, and deny that there ever was a host to own that body, as it were. The crueller ones may derive some amusement from their host's ability to witness, but not act. Some may even leave the host conscious, but completely deprived of both motor control and sensory input."

"Trapped in your own mind as well as your own body then," Daniel murmured.

"There's more isn't there?" Jack asked, sounding tired. "I don't think Hathor was just talking about regular evil bodysnatching behaviour."

"If you have total control over someone's sensory input, you can effectively torture them," said Sam.

"That is so," Anise admitted, "Regrettably. A goa'uld can inflict unimaginable pain upon its host, and will certainly do so if they offer any resistance. They may also trap them in mental situations indistinguishable from reality."

"They are, in fact, the only reality there is for the host," Selmak added, sounding pained. Sam frowned, and glanced up at her father with a penetrating look.

"You know, don't you?" she asked, "You know what that feels like." Selmak looked away, and when he answered, it was in a pained tone.

"Saroosh had been briefly host to a goa'uld before she became my host," he confirmed, "They are perhaps the worst memories we carry, and I have no doubt that the goa'uld was capable of even worse."

"I'll bet you don't get many volunteers from amongst former goa'uld hosts," Jack said, grimacing, quite possibly at his own recollection of Kanaan.

"In the past two hundred years, in fact, there have only been two," Selmak affirmed, "Saroosh, and – "

"Jason," Sam supplied, looking like the ghost of Jolinar was haunting her too, "I remember. He was one of Neruk's former hosts. That's why you chose him for Eleanor, isn't it?" Selmak nodded.

"We thought he'd be best able to help her."

"And that's why the High Council was so surprised when Eleanor volunteered to be a host," Daniel added, as if a puzzle he had been wondering about for some time suddenly made sense to him. "You never imagined that she would agree to such a thing, so you didn't even think to ask, and started to consider all those other possibilities."

"It wouldn't have been fair to ask," Selmak said, stiffly, "We all would agree on that." Sam squeezed her father's hand where she sat next to him, and Selmak shot her a surprised, grateful look.

"Do you think that's what Delek meant?" Daniel asked, quietly, "When he said that Eleanor was trapped in her memories."

"I hope not," was all Selmak could say.

"Isn't there anything more we can do doc?" Jack asked, for all of them. She shook her head sadly.

"I'm afraid not. Only Delek can help her now."


	16. Chapter 16

[I forgot to mention in my last update that there are a few quotes scattered throughout part 4; for the sake of not interrupting the text or ending up with a million footnotes, I'm going to stick their attributions in an appendix at the end of the story]

**Chapter 16**

Eleanor let the titles role, and they sat in silence for a while, listening to the music.

"Why is this your comfort film?" Beth asked at last. "It's a horror movie. You don't even like horror movies! You always say they give you nightmares."

"It is a nightmare," Eleanor agreed, "It's the perfect nightmare. And then it's over."

"That's **it?"**

"That's what a nightmare is. Does there need to be more?"

"Maybe it's because you identify with Ripley too much. You want to be the heroine. I know you. You don't have much faith in humanity. Still less in yourself. But you want to. She's a flawed heroine. She's scared out her mind the whole way through, but she runs back for her friends when they're in trouble. She's cautious and not gung-ho, but insists on saving the cat. She's human. A **believable **human who still manages to be decent. And she survives. Like you." A stabbing pain. It was true. And it wasn't even close.

"Is that what you think?"

"Well, what do you think it is?"

"The director apparently said that it has no message. That it's only message was terror, and more terror." A pause. Beth sounded like she was afraid of the answer to the next question.

"Is that the message?" Eleanor smiled; a bitter, ironic smile that she felt twist her mouth, twist her guts.

"The message you take isn't necessarily the one you're being given."

"So I'm right."

"Maybe..." A frown. "I feel like I'm looking for something, but I don't know what it is."

"I think you're looking for the meaning in what happened to **you**. It's nothing to do with the film. Eleanor, what **happened **to you?"

"A nightmare."

"And?"

"And then it was over."

"And that's it."

"Yes." Her words were becoming progressively more clipped. Another sigh from Beth.

"I'm not going to get anymore out of you on this, am I?" Her turn to sigh.

"No. You're not." She was fighting for control again, only this time it was over her emotions, and she wasn't sure why.

"I wish you'd talk to me."

"You're assuming there's more to it. There wasn't. That was it. And you – and I can look for another meaning, a reason, something to justify it all, to make it make sense, all I want, but I'll never find it, because it's not there. That **was **the meaning."

"And then you woke up."

"Yes. Then I woke up."

"Well, Ripley fell asleep again. What happens when you fall asleep again? Eleanor?"

Awareness returned again; awareness only of the mind, not of the body. Back in the hell vacuum of nothing, where fear was already waiting for her. The caterpillar image returned again, and, for the first time, she became aware that it **was **an image. An imagining. A creation in her mind. She cast about for another, and the first thing she thought of was the creature from the Alien film, bursting out of Kane's chest. _I am never watching that film again, _she promised herself, recoiling, and reassessing. But no, it made it clear that there two things that she retained and possessed command of: imagination, and memory. She knew who she was: she remembered everything. Those parts of her mind that were solely in her brain, were hers, at least to a degree._'The mind is its own place, And can make a heavn of hell, A hell of heavn'._ She cast her mind about, desperate for a memory. A good memory. A safe place. With all her being, she strove for it. And then, wholly and completely, she was somewhere else entirely. In a meadow, a short distance outside Cambridge. It was summer.

A perfect summer's day; exams over, they had indulged in a traditional punt down to Grantchester, and sat now on the riverbank, amidst the meadows with their distantly lowing cows, drousy with sunshine, and alcohol, and strawberries. Beth had raised a glass of champagne; an extravagance they couldn't really afford, but it was a special occasion.

"To the future," Beth intoned pompously, doing a pretty good impression of the college principal, and Eleanor had laughed. They chinked glasses. The champagne was warm from its ride downriver, but it didn't matter. Their eyes met warmly over the glasses in the old communion of friendship, and she wondered what it would be like, after three years of Beth, to be without her; at least, to be without her in immediate reach. To be without this. Everybody had always told her how university had been the best years of their lives; how they had made friendships for life there, and she'd always thought it exaggerated. She'd never imagined how hard it would be to leave.

"Do you think I'm mad leaving here, to do my PhD?" she asked aloud.

"I think you're mad doing a PhD," Beth retorted, and she splashed her with water. "Mind you, I always thought you were going to be one of those people who comes to Cambridge and never leaves." Beth's tone was teasing, but she knew there was a truth in it.

"I don't **want** to leave," she admitted, "I've never been so happy as I was here. I don't want to go back to the real world. I'd like to stay cloistered in my ivory tower forever."

"Yeh, I noticed," Beth laughed again, "You're a true academic, Stewart. I can see you here still when you're eighty, one of those crazy old lecturers who cycles about town with their skirts flapping and their head in the clouds, refusing to retire."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. But I think you'll regret it if you don't go somewhere else for a bit. Go to America for a postdoc!" She made a face.

"Everybody goes to America. Well, maybe I will. Probably I'll go someplace else. I don't know if I'm good enough to continue in research, it's pretty competitive…"

"Oh rubbish. Don't you pull that false modesty on me. You're the best in our year. Well, you would be if you worked harder anyway." There was more splashing, then they finished their glasses and lay back on the picnic blanket, watching the clouds scud across the sky. Eleanor felt so perfectly contented that part of her wished this day could last forever. She looked back along the river; the Library tower and King's Chapel was visible on the flat horizon, still and serene, like a photograph. She had so much memory, so much emotion, invested in that place, that had opened her mind, when she thought it already opened. Her _alma mater_; the mother of her mind indeed, she didn't know what she would have done if she hadn't got in here. It still felt like a dream. A wonderful dream. A fairytale. And she didn't want it to be over. But the university had stood for almost eight hundred years. It would still be waiting when she came back.

"I'll go someplace else," Eleanor decided, "I think you need to, to get a different perspective. More experience. But I'm going to come back here, ultimately. If I can. Everything I ever wanted is here. It feels like home. What about you? Will you come back, or is it back to the big city for you?"

"I'll come back," Beth said, seriously, "If you're here. I'll probably need you to get me a job anyway, cos I'm not so smart as all that."

"Oh don't you start either. You're always selling yourself short." Beth shook her head, although she looked unconvinced.

"Fine then. We'll come up with our grand Marriss-Stewart Theory of Something Cool, and then we'll both get positions and come back here."

"Deal," Eleanor agreed, and sat up to refill their glasses. "Woh, we've finished the bottle already. You're such a pisshead – ow!"

"To returning," Eleanor proposed this time.

"To returning," Beth agreed, "And never getting a real job."

A warm summer's day; blossoms drifted across the quad. She sat on the bench, feeling the sun upon her face, warming her hair. She could stay here forever. She heard footsteps approach, but did not turn, as someone sat down on the bench beside her.

"You keep coming back here," The man observed, his voice distorted like a Goa'uld's. She turned to face him then, pulse quickening. A young man, in a strange, tan leather uniform; dark hair, blue eyes, proud gaze. Her breath halted a moment, then resumed.

"You are not me," she stated, calm and unafraid, "I have not met you. I have not…dreamt you. But you're not **her** either." He smiled.

"And you…are unique. You do know me. Just not now, not in this time." Her brow furrowed.

"Are you saying you're from the future?" A faint light of mischief glinted in her eyes. "Don't tell me: you're the new Doctor Who." He laughed, surprised.

"No. I am saying that this is the past, and I am present. Humans view time in the manner they experience it…but memory, doesn't have to work like that. And you, my beloved escapist, have discovered a small part of this." Her expression darkened.

"There is one who knows more."

"The Red Queen." A scowl.

"Do not call her."

"Eleanor, she is dead. In the time outside this place, she is dead, and you are free. You can be free of her." Eleanor made no reply. She glanced at the sundial; the shadows flickered across it in ever-hastening time, and the seasons shifted, from summer to autumn. The sky darkened. She was coming.


	17. Chapter 17

[I know things are dark folks, but hang on in there. There's light at the end of the tunnel...eventually]

**Chapter 17**

She went back to her old life, although it seemed almost impossible to do so. Then again, what choice did she have? She supposed she could join the SGC; Major Carter, who had been really helpful, had said she'd support an application for her to work there, and, in a way, it felt like it would be a million times more important than any of the research she was doing back at the university, but the doctors thought it would be best for her get some distance from what had happened to her first, and she was inclined to agree. She'd read about the Goa'uld until her head had hurt, but the knowledge hadn't served to give her back any feeling of control, as knowledge usually did.

It was a comfort, at least, to get back to familiarity, and the people who loved her, even if she did feel a bit stifled at first. Even after she moved back to her own place and started work again, her friends and family insisted on taking turns staying with her for a week at a time, just to make sure she was all right. She didn't mind as much as she protested; she hated being alone in the evenings and she never was, because someone was always there.

The accident-amnesia story didn't prove to be such a bad idea, as it excused any weird behaviour she exhibited, which was probably more often than she cared to admit. She was more than a little paranoid at first, no matter the assurances of the SGC that they had taken care of some security issues and no one was going to try and kidnap her again. Her memories felt like a ransacked library. She didn't recall things in the same way that she used to, as though they'd been filed in a different place, which was seriously bizarre, and frustrating, and not a little frightening, but she supposed she'd get used to that too. Like eventually remembering that after your spring clean you'd tidied that drawer and the folder you were looking for was in the **other **drawer. Although she'd hardly describe what the Goa'uld had done to her mind as spring-cleaning. Sam had told her she would sort that out too; all things considered, she was exceedingly grateful that the Goa'uld hadn't died within her and given her **its** memories, as had happened to Major Carter, although that had been a Tok'ra, of course.

She didn't have visual hallucinations anymore, but she did have auditory ones; sometimes she could swear she could still hear the Red Queen in her mind. Or standing right behind her. She'd been told that this was common and that it would pass, but it didn't diminish the horror any when it happened. She had nightmares, of course. She'd always been prone to them anyway, and had rather resigned herself to the fact that it was going to take her mind a while to sort through things. Mostly they seemed to involve her being pursued by dragons, which she persuaded herself was quite funny, when looked at from a certain angle. She still seemed capable of doing her job, which was the main thing. And if she still didn't have a reason for her 'lucky escape', then it didn't matter. You couldn't figure everything out.

She didn't know how long she had managed to stay in her memories, before the clamouring fear took her once again, but it was definitely longer than she had retained awareness before. So when she came around again, still in the nothing, she fled instantly into the safety of recollection.

…A first, impassioned kiss under the tree in the starlight; she had thought it so romantic. Her heart was pounding so loudly against her ribcage she thought the whole street must hear, or that it might burst.

"Ellie…" a whispered breath, and she reached to brush the falling leaves from his hair…

Memory to memory, fragment to fragment; now back, now forth. Parents, brothers, friends, lovers…moments of joy, moments of triumph, even moments of grief, she lost herself in them all…fleeing from herself and what had become of herself, for as long as she could….

…Her mother, years ago, she couldn't have been more than four, teaching her to count. An early, early memory. Her mother sang, taking her fingers and wiggling them one by one, as she laughed and giggled.

"One two, three four five,

Once I caught a fish alive!

Six, seven, eight nine ten,

Then I let it go again.

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so!

Which little finger did it bite?

This little finger on my right!"

What did you do, when you ran out of memories? Did you play them all again and again like a favourite film, until you were sick of them? Fear rose…and she struggled to escape it.

A frosty autumn's day; she stood in the quad of the college, watching the sunlight sparkle on the traces of snow on the roof. Watching her breath steam the air._'The spirit of peace descended like a cloud from heaven, For if the spirit of peace is to be found anywhere, It is in the courtyards and quadrangles of Oxbridge on a fine October morning'._

The sundial had not shifted position in an hour. Maybe longer. This day did not exist. It was a composite of other days and other memories, and outright imagination. She had constructed it and cloistered herself safe within it. She pondered that for a while. Her friend Beth approached from the other side of the quad, came and sat down to her on the bench. That was constructed too.

"You're not really here," she told Beth.

"But you want me to be," Beth pointed out, "And so here I am. Isn't that enough?"

"It's enough. But it's not real."

"But you've always considered that the imagination **is** real. That you are the sum of your thoughts. Why is a dream less real than a memory?"

"The dream **is **a memory, if you recall it."

"Why is what you experience internally any less real than what you experience externally?"

"You know, you don't actually talk like Beth."

"Don't I?"

"No. You talk like me. Like me having an argument with myself, which is all this is." She experimented, and abruptly Beth shifted form and became someone – and something – else entirely. An alien form; tall, furred and vaguely bearish in appearance; almost cartoonishly so.

"I remember you," she told him, "I made you up as child when I couldn't get to sleep. To defend me from my nightmares."

"Is that why I am here now? To defend you from your nightmare?"

"Well, you can try." She took his hand, and stepped onto an alien world. One entirely of her creation. Escaped, for a little while longer.

In the reality of the infirmary, all had been grimly quiet for some time. Eleanor's readings continued to worsen; slowly, but inexorably. Delek at least remained relatively stable, but everybody knew it was only a matter of time.

"Red Queen," said Daniel, and everyone turned to look at him. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Sorry, I just keep coming back to it. I mean, doesn't it strike anyone else as an odd name? It's very evocative, er, suggestive…I guess what I'm trying to say is that it sounds like it should **mean **something, and I'm kind of wondering what it is." He looked like he expected everyone to tell him to shut up, but Anise unexpectedly spoke up.

"Dr Stewart mentioned something about it being a hypothesis concerning evolutionary arms races between host and parasite. Something to do with a character from a fantasy book."

"Right, right, 'Alice in Wonderland', of course," Daniel's eyes brightened as he sensed a puzzle.

"And that means something?" Jack asked, rubbing a tired hand across his face.

"Well, in the book, the Red Queen is a, er, somewhat crazy, despotic character, although hardly at a Goa'uld level of evil."

"'In order to stay in the same place, you have to keep on running', that is what she said," Darin piped up, remembering.

"That doesn't make any sense," O'Neill complained.

"No, wait, it does," said Sam, "Think about it. A parasite and its host are in a constant evolutionary battle, mostly an immunological one. Each time the host evolves a defence against the parasite, the parasite evolves a way around it. So effectively they're always running but they're not getting anywhere."

"**We're **not getting anywhere, Carter," said Jack, and got a look. "Why would she call the Goa'uld that? I mean, what possible relation does that have to the theory, or even the book for that matter?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "It's possible that she had a subconscious notion about what the interaction between her and a Goa'uld would mean before it actually became a fully formed idea, but I guess that's grasping at straws a bit."

"Was there any Goa'uld who was also known as the Red Queen?" Daniel asked Jacob/Selmak.

"Not to my knowledge," Selmak replied. "In any case, so far as we know, the Goa'uld that took over Dr Stewart was just a minor functionary in Baal's court."

"So far as you know," Sam repeated, frowning, "What if she wasn't?" Selmak cocked his head on on side.

"That doesn't help us," he said simply, "We are only left with more questions."

"He's off," Jack said suddenly, as Daniel disappeared.

"One of Daniel's ideas?" Sam suggested hopefully. They waited impatiently for a few more minutes, before Daniel came back in, laptop in hand.

"Remembered something?" asked Jack.

"Found something, actually," Daniel replied, "With a little judicious web searching. For a start, I think Sam may have a point. After all, we don't know whether this is a name Eleanor gave to the Goa'uld whilst she was still host to her, or something she dreamt up afterwards. Looking up the Red Queen hypothesis, it's not just used to describe the arms race between host and parasite, but in fact continual evolution driven between interacting species in general, and, most interestingly, the evolution of sex itself."

"So it could have been something to do with the idea of making a Goa'uld queen then?" asked Darin.

"Yes, but there's no reason it couldn't have multiple reasons. The 'Alice in Wonderland' reference might mean something as well: did Eleanor effectively disappear into another reality, a fantasyland, as it were, whilst the Goa'uld was imprisoning her in her mind?"

"What if she meant it more literally?" Carter asked suddenly. "You said an arms race: each trying to get ahead of each other, with neither winning. Maybe she and the Goa'uld were wresting control back and forth from each other for some time before Eleanor finally won?"

"That's possible too," answered Darin, "And from what little she spoke to us about, it seems that at least some of the time both those possibilities were true, but of course that doesn't get us anywhere closer to identifying the goa'uld herself."

"Only they can do that," Selmak pointed out, "And I doubt that it will help."

It was like a fairytale. Like a thousand fairytales. She leapt from universe to universe; places and people read of in books or dreamt up herself; often an amalgamation of both. She had always daydreamed, fantasised. Far too much, according to most people. She had never realised how powerfully real a daydream could be when there was nothing external to impinge upon it: the dream **was** the reality, and it was all hers, for as long as she could make herself forget where she really was…but the mind was also the abode of nightmares, and they always came back in the end.

A frosty autumn's day, she stood in the quad of the college, watching the sunlight sparkle on the traces of snow on the college roofs. Watching her breath steam the air.

"Why do I keep coming back here?" she wondered aloud.

"Because this is where you want to be. In this place, in this time, with one you love." It was Beth again.

"But it's not real. The Cambridge of my memories…is good, and I was happy, but it wasn't the paradise I've created here. This is a place that I've constructed."

"Why is what you experience internally any less real than what you experience externally?" She struggled. It was no longer Beth; her own self looked back at her.

"Because – because…the human mind isn't meant to have one without the other. They influence each other. They're interdependent. You can't walk around in the world with your eyes and ears open and not **think**_. _Not imagine. But you can't just exist in your mind and not **experience**_. _You can't create new memories without experiencing them first and the experience of the mind alone just doesn't **feel ** mind is a product of the body. It **needs **the body, and it needs the world. It needs the context. How long have I been in this bloody state? I don't know what the hell's happening out there. I don't even know if I've **eaten! **That isn't survival!"

"All of this is survival."

"But it isn't **living! **It's just…running away. I can stay here forever, disappeared up my own arse, blurring memory and imagination until I don't know which is which anymore, and it won't solve anything! It won't change anything, except my mind. Is that what I do? Recreate my entire self, my entire life, in endless permutation, endless combination, recycled beyond recognition, until I become someone else entirely? Until it all becomes random noise, and I just…fade away? Or go truly crazy? Destroy myself with my own mind?" She put her head in hands, despairing. The fear was coming back; a new fear on top of the old fear. Insanity was worse than death, and worse than insanity was…this. This never-ending nightmare; an enchanted sleep that would go on forever and forever…and no hero to wake her from it.

"Why not? What else can you do? You can do nothing. You are powerless."

"You know, I don't think you're a part of me at all anymore. You don't sound like me. It's happening already, isn't it?" Her own self smiled at her; a smile with amusement, but no compassion.

"You have a choice," she said, "You can wake up, and find yourself back in that nothing. Or you can escape, into the world of the mind. Escape forever."

"That's not an escape!" She was virtually screaming, and she didn't even know why she was sabotaging it herself.

"Why not?"

"Because it's NOT. BLOODY. REAL!" Her own self laughed and her eyes flashed with an eerie glow. She clapped her hands. The vision wavered, disappeared. And was replaced by the central hall of Baal's citadel. Her doppelganger was seated in the ostentatious throne at the end of the room. The room was stacked to the ceiling with mutilated corpses. She knew their faces.

**Haven't you been busy back here, little mouse? Gnawing on the pathetic cheese crumbs of your existence. I wondered why your fear lessened so. **It returned then, with a new, blinding intensity.

_You can *__sense* me? All of this? _

**Of course. I am a god. I know everything. What a tiny little life you have. **For a brief moment, rage eclipsed even the fear.

_But it was MY life, you colossal piece of shit! How can you do this to someone? I wouldn't do this to my worst enemy! _Her own self was falling about laughing on the throne.

**Bow before your god!**

_Go to hell!_But it was her who went to hell. If she had craved sensation before, she wished it gone again now: burning agony such as she had never imagined coursed through her entire body until she writhed on the floor of the throne room, screams tearing from her. The thing on the throne fed off it, lapped it up. Kept it up.

**It is traditional to beg for mercy at this point, I believe. **Any delusions she may have harboured about her resistance to torture – and they weren't many at this point – entirely vanished. She begged, still screaming. You couldn't scream yourself hoarse when you had no throat. You just kept going and going…it stopped. Merciful god, it stopped.

**Better. But I think you should be sent to bed without any supper, don't you? **Wagging a finger in admonition.

_What? _she managed. Then she was back in the vacuum nothing again. With no way out.


	18. Chapter 18

[Sorry these next two chapters took a while to upload. Inconveniently, I have to work for a living. Btw, the site doesn't like me putting for the Red Queen's speech for some reason, so I've settled for bold italic. It also doesn't like me adding double gaps between different sections, or stars, so I'm putting a // between different sections - which are usually different timepoints or memories at the moment - to try and make it a bit clearer, as I appreciate all this jumping around is probably confusing. If it just makes it more confusing, let me know and I'll take them out.]

* * *

**Chapter 18**

In her mind, she kept on screaming for some time, back to crashing upon peaks of terror again. She hadn't imagined it would be possible for it be worse than the first time, but it was. And it never ended, except when the monster dragged her out to torment her every so often. This was worse than what was worse than insanity, which was rapidly creeping up on her.

//

Eleanor had been back at work for over a month, ironically, before the worst day found her. She heard **her **voice all day, sounding insidiously in her head. She had excused herself from work, before she really freaked everybody out, and wandered round the zoology museum; a favourite haunt, with its skeletons and specimens, its legions of beasties both extant and extinct, but all, in this particular instance, reassuringly dead. She hadn't forgotten about her researches into the Goa'uld, convinced, somewhere below the level of conscious understanding, that she was missing something…something critical. Thoughts were nagging at her constantly; she felt that she was on the tip of figuring out…something, only for it to slip away again. Morose, in a savage mood, she went home, and this time the nightmare came before she was even properly asleep, overlaying its terrible vision on her darkened room, shadowing the sight of her eyes. She saw it again. Saw **her**.

"Red Queen," she said aloud to the dark, denying her her name, denying her that one piece of power, of acknowledgement, although it was always there, in the back of her mind.

'_It takes all the running you can do, just to stay in the same place'. _She ran. She had no choice but to run. She ran and ran, and the dragon pursued. Dragon, dinosaur, alien, it morphed from one form to another. She ran and ran and fought when she could not run, reduced to the primitive need to escape, to survive. _**You are an escapist. But you cannot escape me. Do you think you will find the answer here, in these stupid books you read? **_Consumed with the absolute, primeval fear, the first fear: that of being eaten. Consumed. Devoured whole, your body become another's. The beast cornered her, and her vision lurched.

Disembodied, she floated over an ancient landscape, watched as gill slits fused and fins become limbs struggled onto the shore. She raised her gaze, and saw dinosaur kill dinosaur.

Death upon death, fossil upon fossil, species upon species falling by the wayside, lost in the mists of time, dwarfed by massive, ponderous geology. She saw the long, slow sweep of Deep Time, the long slow crawl of primate to Lucy to man, in all his bloody, warring glory.

She saw the dinosaur, out of place, out of time. Tyrannosaur, terrible lizard; he had no idea of true tyranny. She did. She had seen it. She had felt it, tasted its blood upon her lips and wrought its vengeance with her hands. She ran, and ran, and it ran after her. '_It takes all the running you can do, just to stay in the same place!' _Red Queen, why had that name come to her? There was something else, something…Arms race, parasite and prey, forever locked in their stalemate, one gaining the upper hand only for the other to wrest it back again. They spun, locked in deadly embrace.

The vision lurched again, flung her back and back in time, and away, away, deep in space; a faraway world, an alien landscape; a world in upheaval, volcanos erupting and poisoning the air. The origin of the Goa'uld. Meteors striking, seas drying, millions upon millions dying. Predator turned parasite. The imperative of evolution. Adapt or die. The First Ones; Unas dying. Serpent hissed and looked to the temptation of Eve. Knowledge possessed; passed on, unearnt, unlearnt. _**All those stupid books you read **_Another way to survive. But they couldn't remember all the way back; it was too much, too far, too long ago. They had changed too much. They did not remember where they came from. Her monster pursued her again, and she ran again, and stayed in the same place.

The dragon was upon her. Red Queen! She ran. She hid, ape come down from the trees; the savannah sand was hot between her toes. As she watched, pyramids rose in the distance. Serpentine forms were petrified in the rocks that hid her; great fossilised reptiles. A shadow upon the rock; the dragon approached. A sinuous form; sand-coloured.

"_Ex ovo omnia,"_ it said, in a familiar voice.

"Selmak?" It slithered into a crevasse in the rocks, and, desperate to get away from the Red Queen, she followed. All around were dragon eggs, alien eggs. She could see movement within them; embryonic life just waiting to burst out. She had to get out of here! But there was no way out. A massive shape loomed ahead in the darkness. The roof of the cave cracked open and she saw the stars wheeling above. She saw the Earth, watched as a shimmering golden dragon, lithe and rippling, flew towards it, piercing the atmosphere.

_Ex ovo omnia. _A wave passed over the surface of the earth, and it fissioned in the centre, split in two. Then in two again, and two again, a great blue blastocyst of potential life. A crack ran along the surface of one of the eggs in front of her. With no other way out she ran past it. Serpents coiled at her feet, and ahead of her the massive shape resolved. She saw herself; herself held naked in the arms of the dragon, a golden dragon, embraced like a lover. Ancient eyes turned to meet her gaze. She knew. She knew. All around her, eggs were beginning to crack. She turned to meet her fate, as the first struggled out. She raised her hand to it; claws gripped the rim of the shell and beady eyes fixed upon her own. The bird lifted straight into the dawn sky.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she gasped, as she woke to find herself back in her darkened bedroom. She had fallen onto the floor and the dog was licking her face. Her mind was reeling, and reeling, fitting it all together…the dancing images of her dreams superimposed themselves on the ceiling, which spun upon its axis like the heavens above the earth…if she were right…the ramifications spread out like ripples from a cast stone…

"No," she rejected it automatically, shying away from that awful truth, "No no no." Oh god, she was in trouble: something sparked and fused in her brain….she began violently convulsing on the floor, unable to stop.

Dimly, she heard the dog barking…and then Matt ran into the room, calling her urgently.

"Ellie! God, Ellie! Okay, hang on, I'm calling an ambulance, they'll be right here…just hang tight, okay…" She tried to call him, to reach him, but she couldn't do anything…. unable to cry out, paralysed, just like she was before….she couldn't even feel his hand on her own; a man's hand. She tried to concentrate on him. When had her little brother become a man? Save me, save me…she's coming for me…behind his blurred, scared face, the ceiling whirlpooled red, twisting…something was trying to come through…._Matt get out the way!_

"They're coming okay Ellie, don't you worry, they'll be here any minute, you're going to be fine…." She saw her then, taking form above her: serpentine form, leathery wings outstretched, a great red dragon, gaping mouth chasming open….flame enveloped her body until she blazed like the sun…and just like last time, she couldn't even scream.

//

Eleanor stopped her silent screaming in the end, calmed herself not so much deliberately as out of utter mental exhaustion. Did a mind without a body need to sleep? She drifted in her prison, slowly, slowly thinking. The mind still had a brain, and the brain needed sleep. Some of the gaps must be sleep; genuine sleep. That – that** thing** had been the parasite. She had known that Baal was one of them, but somehow just hadn't made the connection until she saw it, imaged as herself. It was wearing her body like a set of clothes; using it. The thought was nauseating in the extreme; god only knew what she had been doing in **her **body. But she was sentient. She could be communicated with. Reasoned with, possibly. Appeased, certainly. When she'd begged enough, she usually stopped. The contents of her mind were completely open to this thing…she could read her memories, probably her thoughts. Alter them? Alter memories? Possibly. She didn't know, but her old escape route looked like a trap now.

_God? _she queried, sarcastically. It had taken every ounce of courage to muster sarcasm. But nothing happened. Of course, there was no reason for it to listen to the thoughts of what it considered to be nothing more than a bug. But she would, eventually, pick up on her mood. And it was the only way to get to her jailor.

It was a plan, and it was amazing what a plan could do to give you the illusion of purpose, in itself an illusion of control. She remained relatively calm. Experimentally, she dragged up a few innocuous memories, and found she still could. She hadn't tried since it had first tormented her. But maybe that was why it did it. To compel obedience. So she waited, until It noticed, or got bored, and came to poke through the bars of the cage.

//

When next she woke, she found herself standing on a balcony of Baal's castle, dressed in a gaudy, gauzy dress, sipping a fine wine. Still not in control of her body, of course.

_A very convincing illusion, _she offered, tentatively. The wave of delighted malice that came back to her was by no means encouraging.

_**Lost your grip on reality already? What a poor specimen you are.**_

_I…don't understand._

**_Such a stupid species. You are looking through my eyeballs, idiot_. **A wild hope surged in her, followed in the next instant by colossal doubt. She had no idea if this was real or not; she knew, now, that the parasite had total control over everything she saw and felt in reality: and most of it in her mind as well. She had generated illusion before, after all. But it **felt**real. Like she was looking out of her own eyes, but unable to do or sense anything else.

_**No? How about this? **_She could hear now as well, and jumped, mentally. Baal, seated nearby on an overdone couch, one leg slung over the arm, was droning on something about the Kull warriors he had taken from Anubis, and that was why she was being toyed with, because she – the goddess – was bored of listening to Baal blathering on.

Deprived of sensation for so long, she drank it in, struggling for more. Amused, the parasite gave her sensation in one hand; she felt the cool stem of the wine glass in her hand. She felt the glass! Then – then she **held **the glass. And almost dropped it. Her hand started shaking. She could move it! She could move it, she could – not do anything anymore.

_**Oh dear, I'm sorry, let's try that again shall we?**_ Her other hand! She seized control, in a wild and dizzying pleasure, made to swear at Baal – but was cut off again.

**_Now now, I know he's pompous, but I must endure him for now. And you will not disrespect your gods_. **That agonising sting again, though it was brief this time; a warning slap. The parasite played a little longer – letting her grab control of this finger, or that toe; turning on and off touch and taste. Like a cat letting a mouse go and recapturing it again and again. She didn't want to play, but she was desperate, so desperate…

"My queen?" Baal questioned, "Did you catch that?"

"Of course, my Lord Baal…I haven't quite grown accustomed to this body yet." Her voice coming out of her mouth was distorted like Baal's voice was, and with a falsely demure tone. Baal clearly wasn't convinced either. He lifted a brow, quizzically.

"Toying with your host again?" She felt her face lift in a smile that wasn't hers.

"I confess, you catch me at it. They're so fun when they're fresh."

_Hey, I'm right here you know. You *could* talk to me._

_**Every insolent interruption from you, vermin, will be paid for later. You know that.**_

"Hmm. I would have thought you would consider such amusements beneath you," Baal remarked, sipping from his own glass.

"Perhaps it's been too long for you," she retorted, tartly, but Baal only chuckled. "I've never had one like this before. She actually resists. A little."

"She is Tau'ri. There's an entire planetful like that; without their gods, they've grown abominably unruly. I intend to do something about it, sooner or later."

"I am curious as to why you required I take this host to cement our deal," the queen asked, cautiously.

"Not to your liking?"

"She is…adequate. But there are far more perfect ones."

"Perhaps I like that one," Baal replied.

_He's lying, _Eleanor pointed out. _I'm an experiment. You must know that._

_**There is nothing that you know that could possibly be of value to me. Now, quiet.**_

A Jaffa hurried in; he bowed only to Baal, which irritated the queen, Eleanor noted, and spoke low in his ear.

"Oh very well, I suppose I'll have to deal with it. Eurys, you will join me for dinner later, I trust."

"An honour, my Lord." He rose, approaching them. The queen evidently knew what he intended, for Eleanor suddenly felt full sensation in her face, as Baal leaned in, and kissed them, lecherously. Had she control of her stomach, she would have gagged.

_God, please don't tell me you've screwed that – I mean, Lord Baal – whilst I haven't been looking. _For once, the queen was in agreement with her, in a manner of speaking.

_**You would not be worthy of him. But he is not worthy of me. I'll be rid of him in my own time.**_

_You won't stall him forever. And you've been lying too. Your name's not Eurys. _

_**You dare question your god! **_The anger from the symniote was, briefly, so intense, that she knew she must have scored a point somehow. Then it turned back into that dreadful, sly malice.

_**Oh yes, **_the voice was almost purring, _**I nearly forgot. Time for the rest of your punishment.**_

The queen tired of torturing her, in the end, but she let her out, to a degree, as long as she was quiet and behaved, which she was. She had long since ceased trying to get control, or fight her, or even try to reason with her. It was all impossible. The queen let her see through her eyes, but that was it. Eleanor couldn't figure out why she did that, but in the end it slowly dawned on her, through snippets of thoughts that occasionally, in an unguarded moment, leaked across, that it was mostly to do with ego.

The queen was frustrated; she was under Baal's power, and she wanted her own. Once she had had an empire, several centuries ago. Worshippers of her own. She let Eleanor see what was going on because that way, there was a witness to her glory. And perhaps, more insidiously, there was the simple fact that being a helpless witness to someone else living the life they had stolen from you was, on one level, the most painful torture, the most humiliating slavery. It kept her suffering; alone in her box she found she could still escape when the queen wasn't paying attention, which she wasn't, mostly. She was too busy trying to manipulate Baal and hatch secret plans. After a while, it was almost as if she forgot she was there, and Eleanor learnt to tiptoe around her own mind, in little secret mental corridors, pretending that the real world was a story. Or a dream. And that she might, eventually, wake up.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19.**

"I don't understand," her mother repeated, for about the fifth time, leaning back against the kitchen worktop, but with arms folded tight across her chest; face taut and unhappy. "Why do you have to go back there again?"

"I don't **have **to," she explained again, "I **want **to. They're doing…some important research. Something I can be a part of, and I don't want to miss out on it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"But I thought you were happy back at Cambridge. You worked so hard to get that position. Why do you want to leave now?"

"Things change Mum. This is what I want now. I can still come back again later."

"But resigning! I thought this was going to be a sabbatical or something."

"It…may be for a long time. I can't take an indefinite leave of absence. Look, I have some hypotheses…I may be able to really help some people here Mum. I don't understand why you're so dead set against my going."

"I only just got you back! I thought you were dead! You just disappeared – do you have any idea what that was like for us! And when they told me what happened – I mean, it's just crazy. I can't help thinking that this is something to do with what that thing did to you and I don't want you making a mistake because you're not thinking rationally."

"I'm not a child Mum!" She was angry now.

"I wish you were!" She blinked, startled; her mother looked like she was about to cry. "Part of me…wishes you still were. Because then you wouldn't know what to do. And then you'd come running to me, and I could fix it for you." A deep breath, and the self-control was back. Her mother had always been strong. She wondered if that was a mother thing or if was just the way she'd always been. "I know you're not a child. You're far more responsible than I ever was at your age; and you've always been smarter…

"Mum…"

"And I know there's something you're not telling me." She sighed.

"It's complicated."

"Why does everything have to be complicated with you?"

"God, this is like being a teenager again. Why are we arguing?"

"We always argue. You never argue with your father but you always argue with me." _Why did she have to point that out? _Eleanor thought, resentfully.

"Don't all daughters argue with their mothers?" she retorted, and suddenly wondered why. Her Mum sighed too then.

"In my experience, yes. But I've only had one mother, and I only have one daughter. And I **don't **want to lose her again. I've been so worried about you…we all have. You've not been yourself since you came back."

"Under the circumstances," Eleanor replied, stiffly, "That's pretty much the worst thing you could have said to me."

"Oh don't get all defensive on me again. I don't mean like that. You're still my Eleanor, and that will never change. But what you've been through – you're acting almost like it never happened, but you can't pretend something like that just didn't happen. You can't."

"It's so unreal, Mum. You remember how incredulous you were when you heard it. It's like a bloody science fiction show. It's like a fairytale. It **shouldn't **be real. I have no choice but to go back to normal and I can't shoehorn it back into reality because it doesn't **fit**– not this reality, anyway. Not this world, this society…this time. In my head though…" She stopped, choked, and appalled to find herself crying. Again. She felt her mother's arms come around her; safe, warm, secure, attended by the scent she'd known since she was born. The embrace that healed hurts and defended her from nightmares. Real. Not for the first time since returning, she wished with all her heart that she was just a child again, when she believed her mother was all-powerful being who could protect her from anything.

"It's still there, isn't it?" Her mother spoke quietly, "In your head it's real. You've been pre-occupied, and your moods have been swinging all over the place like a teenager, that's for sure. And when you had that fit – god it was awful."

"I'm fine Mum." She stepped out of the hug, as if to prove it.

"I'm not sure you are, but you're right. You're not a teenager anymore and this isn't about some boy…is it?"

"Mum!"

"Oh, pity. I still want grandchildren you know and your brothers don't look like they're going to be giving me any in a hurry."

"Mum, for god's sake!" Her mother smiled then, wicked play of humour in her eyes.

"I knew that would get you going. But I'm serious. You've made some decision, some **adult** decision, and it's nothing to do with any research project. I **know **you, Eleanor." She was cornered. She'd always been lousy at hiding secrets from her Mum.

"I…may join the Tok'ra, Mum."

"You – what? Are you out of your mind? After what happened last time!"

"That's completely different! They're not the same Mum. I know you didn't meet them but I did explain before…I mean, they did sort of save my life."

"I thought you were going back to America! If you join the Tok'ra, you may be going across the whole damn **galaxy** and I'll never see you again!"

"You'll see me again. I'll come visit. And anyway, it's not certain yet. It depends on the results of this project. If what I suspect is true…then I may be in a position to offer them something no one else can, something I don't believe you'd ever try and deny them."

"And what would that be? What could possibly be so important to them?"

"The same thing that's most important to you."

//

Eleanor woke up. She woke up, and the odd thing was, it was the middle of the night. A faint sheen of moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains surrounding the canopied bed. For a moment, she struggled to recall where she was, what had happened. The bedroom, the bed, looked familiar, but felt strange. So too did the filmy nightgown clinging to her skin, like it wasn't hers – she sat up with such a sudden startlement that she felt her heart thud against her ribs, and clutched at it, gasping. First time she had felt her own heartbeat in – god only knew how long. First time she had felt the breath gusting in and out of her lungs, silk against her skin, skin against skin where she had raised her hands to her head. Her hands - ! She patted herself all over, as if expecting herself to be an illusion. Truth be told, it very well could be, and the thought brought her up cold. Had she degenerated so far that she could not tell the difference? But it wasn't that it looked real or sounded real or even tasted real, it **felt **real. **She**, felt real.

"Am I real?" she asked out loud, and the sound of her own voice, her own voice out of her own throat, astonished her, crazed her with delight. It had to be real. The Red Queen wouldn't let her enjoy it this long, would she? But wait – Eurys. Was she still there? She had to be. She didn't even dare turn her thoughts inward, lest she wake up. _Let sleeping dragons lie_, she thought.

She flung the covers aside, and stood on her own two feet, relieved that she hadn't somehow 'forgotten' how to control her own body, although the thought seemed absurd. The rich carpet was warm and soft between her toes, and she wiggled them, adoring the sensation. The room was cool, and she shivered in the silken gown, and adored that too.

But wait, but wait, think, think! What to do? She tiptoed to the door, and hesitated. She was sure there were Jaffa guards outside, who would doubtless think it a little odd for her to be wandering the halls at this time wearing next to nothing. To say nothing of what **Baal **would think. She shuddered, and backed away. No escape. The thought brought her up cold, threatened to quell her newfound joy. It wasn't even the guards and Baal and being stuck on another planet that was the problem. It was** her**_._ For what could she do? How could she escape **herself?** She had no idea why she had got control; when Eurys had slept before she had either been shut in her box or, presumably, unconscious herself. Curious, that it should happen now. If only she knew why…but she did not know why, and it was only prudent to assume that it wouldn't last, and might never happen again.

This time she wandered over to the balcony, opened the door softly and stepped out onto cold stone. The room was several floors up. If she jumped – she would die. It would at least end it. A while ago she would have thought that she would be disbelieving at the very notion of suicide. But that was before. Death was infinitely preferable, and she'd at least take the bloody Goa'uld with her.

"It's not like a story," she whispered to herself, staring at the stars, repeating her own thoughts, "Nobody is a hero. Everybody begs, everybody cries, nobody resists torture, nobody gets away by making a rope from the bedsheets…" She stared down. A long way down. Could she really do this? And would it even work? Abruptly she remembered the sarcophagus, and hesitated again, unable to decide. She grasped the rail firmly with both hands. The stone was very cold against her palms. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. Her breath was very loud in her ears, and clouded smokily before her eyes. Like a dragon's.

There was only the briefest of warnings, then, with a dizzying, wrenching sensation, she was flung out of her body, back – back to the world of the mind. The incandescent anger of the Red Queen surged and raged around her. Later, perhaps she would wonder if she was grateful that she had not yet made the decision, but now, she regretted it bitterly, when the agony at last abated enough to leave room for regret.

//

A grassy meadow in summertime, alive with flowers; lazy river running between willow-lined banks. Above, the sky was a perfect inverted bowl of Wedgewood blue to the endless horizon; spires could just be glimpsed in the distance. A white horse grazed the grass, contentedly. Part memory, part construction. He was here again.

"Delek," her voice came softly to him.

"Eleanor!" And there she was, stood calmly amidst the grass, battle-clad in medieval armour, shield on arm, sword in hand, irony on face. He ran to her; still, in form, as Kyen, and paused, sensing something – something strange.

"Eleanor?" he questioned again, "How are you doing this?"

"Delek. If you are here, then I am dying, and you must leave. Save yourself. Do not come back for me. Don't let all this have been for nothing."

"Eleanor…I said that I would not abandon you." The figure smiled, and suddenly he understood. Not something – nothing. An absence. "This isn't you," he stated, wonderingly, "And it isn't a memory. How are you doing this? How **have **you done this?"

"This is…a message, that I have left for you. If you are here now, it is because I am dying, and you must go."

"Not without you." A faint smile.

"I knew you would think that. And so I left this message."

"If it is a message, then how do you know what I am going to ask?" The smile broadened.

"Our minds are in sympathy, are they not?" A shift in the landscape, and they were sat upon the grass; Eleanor cross-legged, her drawn, bloody sword across her legs. Battered shield white with a red cross.

"Delek," she said, soft as the breeze, "_If I should die, then think only this of me: that there's some corner of an alien mind, that is forever Eleanor…" _Tears welled in his eyes.

"Eleanor, that is not how the poem goes."

"_And think this heart, all evil shed away, a pulse in the eternal mind, no less, gives somewhere back the thoughts by Eleanor given.__" _The seated figure before him was grave, accepting. But he was not.

"Is that all you would ask for yourself? To sound an echo of immortality carried in the memory of my people? Is it a hero's death you want, a last, noble sacrifice?"

"I would ask that this not be in the vain. That you live. Our minds are in sympathy. Do not let yours die with mine. My own, I can accept."

"I do not. And I do not believe you. This is just another construction, another fantasy; a story you have told yourself. To be the perfect host. The perfect woman. Does not one of your storytellers say: _'To be the object of desire is to be defined in the passive case. To exist in the passive case is to die in the passive case – that is, to be killed. This is the moral of the fairy tale about the perfect woman'_." It won him a delighted smile.

"Ah, you have been reading my books." Then, serious again, "Delek, you must go. This isn't a sacrifice, it's a warning." Then she was gone.

"Eleanor!" Delek stood up, looking around, but she was nowhere to be seen. The horse too was gone, and the sun was setting, turning the sky red. The meadow suddenly came alive with birdsong. Delek frowned.

"This place…why this place?"

//

Eleanor woke up. It was the middle of the night again. She woke up, and knew at once that it had happened again. The Red Queen, slipping into slumber, had lost her control. She lay there a few minutes, hardly daring to move, even to breathe, knowing that if the Goa'uld woke again, she would be angry again. She didn't think she could face that anymore. She even tried to **think** quietly, but her thoughts raced, trying to understand what was going on. It was clear that this shouldn't be happening. Eurys didn't understand it either.

The most obvious reason she could think of was an immune reaction to the parasite; but it seemed that the Goa'uld controlled everything about her physiology, including that, and it didn't **feel **like an immune reaction. She was a little warm, perhaps. Hardly anything that could be called a fever. She didn't feel ill. The Goa'uld had felt ill, yesterday, and sneaked off to use Baal's sarcophagus when he wasn't looking. That was another thing she didn't understand. There was a whole level of deception there that she simply wasn't privy to, and it was tempting to think that the answer lay there, but for all she knew it was completely irrelevant. Best not to get distracted.

Softly, softly, she got up and went to the balcony again. A light rain was falling. She couldn't see the stars for the clouds above; couldn't see the ground for the darkness. It was still there, a long way down. She stood there, and pressed her fingertips to her face, soaked up the touch to last herself a little while longer. What was the most important thing? To fight, even when you had no chance of victory? To cut your losses and take the only way out? To find one brief glimmer of hope in this unexpected reprieve, or to ruthlessly quash such feelings, so as to save herself from further torment by the Red Queen? She didn't know. Nobody had told her the answers. Could they be found, if you read the right books? Or were they attained only by experience? Nothing but science fiction even posited the question. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for this. Perhaps nothing could.

She dared not linger. She gripped the balcony rail again; the stone was wet as well as cold now. There wasn't much time.

"Wait and see," she whispered to herself, "If it happened once, it could happen twice. If it's happened twice, it could happen again, and more." Don't hope, don't despair, exist in uncertainty and wait. Just wait. She took one last look out at the world, even though there was only night to be seen, and then went quietly back to bed. She even managed to fall asleep again before the Red Queen woke up.

In the morning, she watched from her prison as Eurys breakfasted and went about her daily routine of exerting what power she had over the Jaffa, trying to connive and contrive her way past Baal, and riding out her frustration in the woods. Eleanor crept along her little mouseholes, suppressing any sense of triumph or satisfaction she may have felt, still less hope. But it was unmistakable. The Goa'uld remembered nothing of what she had done.

Eleanor woke. It was early. For the past week she had woken slightly earlier every night. She had noted the time to herself after the first couple of occasions, and noticed the trend. Initially, it must have been only when the Goa'uld was deeply asleep; this time it had only been a few minutes. She could no longer suppress her hope, but she did not really need to. Eurys was too distracted to notice what her host was getting up to, or feeling. Eleanor still did not understand how, but slowly, surely, the Goa'uld was losing control and she was getting it back. She had made no attempt to actively fight her for control, and had no intention of doing so. Not yet, anyway. It was too soon.

This time, though, she did not go back to sleep. She dared to stay awake all night, to see if the Goa'uld stirred, but her dragon remained sleeping, its dreams a dark, unhappy murmur in the back of her mind. It was never happy.

As the sun began to rise she stood out on the balcony to see the dawn with her own eyes for the first time in weeks. The air was frigid, but she didn't care, and the Goa'uld still didn't wake. At last, when she felt she could delay no longer, she went in again, to the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her own eyes watched back at her for the first time in weeks. She would not cry. She told herself she would not cry. Before, she might have done. Not now. She breathed upon the mirror, steaming it over, and traced a finger across the glass. _I am going to beat you, _she wrote. She waited for it to fade completely before she went back to bed, and closed her eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

[Thank you for all the nice reviews again folks; much appreciated. I think 2-3 more chapters for part 4 - hang on in there!]

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Her father drove her back to Cambridge, late one evening. She had spent most of the trip curled against the seat, eyes closed, so that he would think her asleep, and wouldn't talk to her. She didn't want to talk. She had too much to think about.

The idea persisted, lodged in her brain like a mental splinter. What if a Goa'uld queen was not born, but made? Could that happen? Her mind was busy spinning off ideas, dragging up as much biology as she could. Parasite/host interactions may have been her speciality (an irony that never ceased to provide her with bitter amusement), but she needed to know far more about the Goa'uld. She did remember looking through some of the notes at the SGC and seeing an image of a Goa'uld queen: she had been struck by the fact that it hadn't looked like the queen that had infested her, but had not, initially, picked up on its significance. Part of her knew that she finally had the answer that had been nagging at her for weeks. Part of her knew that she had no such thing: she had only a hypothesis, based on very little evidence, and it needed to be tested. A crazy hypothesis, at that, her caution insisted. _'Every judgement in science stands on the edge of error and is personal'._

Too personal. Of course, it wasn't just the idea itself: it was the implications. She knew, from her researches, that the Tok'ra had no queen at all. She could give them one. **If **she was right, and **if **she could go through with it. She just didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to go back to that other reality at all; the reality of the Stargate, and the Goa'uld, and interstellar war, that existed entirely separate, or as much so as secrecy could make it, from the world she had known her entire life. She especially didn't want to even contemplate another being in her head ever again, another being controlling her body, no matter how benevolent. The thought turned her stomach and sent her mind into flights of panic. _I'm symbiophobic, _she mused to herself, trying to make it funny, but it didn't feel funny at all. And as for that ghastly vision she'd had…the pain. How she remembered the pain. It overlaid onto a pattern of an earlier, darker pain, seared indelibly onto her nerves.

At least she was calm now; oddly calm. Like she was already resolved. Perhaps because she **was **already resolved, she just didn't want to admit it to herself. Another thing she didn't want to admit herself. A scientist, she had always prided herself on seeking out the truth…and facing it, no matter if it was something you didn't want to face. But the truths she had sought before had never had such personal implications, had never had so much fear bound up in them.

'_What every strong intellect wants to be is a guardian of integrity.' _Where was her integrity now? Gone, all gone. Goa'uld-compromised.

"Dad?" she asked at last, and he glanced across at her. He was worried, of course. Everybody was worried, again.

"Thought you were going to sleep all the way," he remarked. "What is it?" She sighed.

"Nothing."

"Is that the type of nothing that means 'something I don't want to tell you' or 'something that I want to tell you, but you probably won't understand'?" She smiled, faintly.

"A little of both, I guess."

"Huh. For a minute there I was worried I was going to get bored to death by biology for the next hour."

"No. You're safe. It's not the biology that's the problem." If only it were.

It was late when they'd left the hospital, and even later when they finally arrived. Her Dad carried her stuff to her room whilst she made a pot of tea. She took her cup outside. It was pitch-black, and cold; her breath frosted cleanly on the air as she looked up at the stars. She took a sip of tea, and sent steam out through her nostrils, fake dragon, suffering an unwanted memory of a balcony and an awful decision…Somewhere out there, in all that endless calm, was unimaginable carnage: the mindless waste of evolution, and the calculated waste of the System Lords. Even they were only the smallest fraction of just the known universe. The mind boggled trying to understand it all. But she had just pieced together one facet, one cryptic little piece of knowledge that could mean everything, and nothing at all. Now all she had to do was test her hypothesis. And she was going to need some help. Her Dad joined her after a few moments, sat next to her on the back doorstep.

"You sure you're not going to have another seizure, or fit or whatever it was?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, no, but…I don't think so."

"You're not comforting your old man much here you know. It always used to be your brothers that were the worry. You were never any trouble. But these past two months you've put all these grey hairs on my head!"

"You went grey years ago, Dad."

"Well it was all the fault of my kids."

"Nothing to do with being old then."

"You wait til you're old. You don't know how fast the time goes." And how slow, sometimes, she thought, but did not say.

"I don't think it was really so much to do with what happened to me as that my mind finally ran up against an idea it couldn't accept…and, short-circuited, I guess."

"That's a lousy explanation. Did Darwin have a fit when he thought up natural selection?" She shook her head, ruefully.

"This is hardly on a par with that. And he did agonise over it for years."

"You've thought of something though haven't you?"

"Yeh, something, maybe…I can't believe nobody's thought of it before. Well, apart from possibly – I mean, nobody else, in all this time?" Her father shook his head.

"I'll bet a lot of people have said that through the ages. Love, you're a clever girl, but you have the typical weakness of the analytically-minded."

"Yeh, what's that then, o wise one?" He smiled fondly at her.

"You believe that other people see things as clearly as you do. But they don't."

She looked up again, at the stars. She wasn't even seeing them as they were now. The light that was reaching her started out its journey years ago.

"Did you know that when you're looking at the stars, you're effectively looking back in time?" she said.

"Yeh I think you told me that one when you were about eight."

"Oh did I? I'm sorry. Dad – " she tried again, but he forestalled her.

"Just go do whatever you have to do. You're my daughter, I **know **you, Eleanor. You won't be able to rest until you know. So go find out."

"It's not the finding out that's the problem. It's the rest."

"Well, start at the beginning and worry about the rest later. You're more like your mother than you know. You have the courage of your convictions; you just haven't had to act on them before. You've only ever had to act on your knowledge, and that, you're far more secure in."

"I have to go back to the States to research this. And after that – I may be going – " she waved a hand vaguely at the sky, "Out there."

"Well whatever you think best then." She blinked, taken aback.

"You're not going to try and talk me out of this?"

"I haven't been able to talk you out of anything since you were twelve. Your mother's going to pitch a rare fit though." She smiled.

"Yeh, I know." She took a deep gulp of tea, and made a face: it had gone cold. He got up, kissed her on the top of the head in passing: his hair was briefly silvered in the starlight.

"Well, you sit out here til you've finished your thinking if you like, but I don't see that you need to. Seems to me you've already made up your mind, a long time ago." She squeezed his hand in passing.

"Thanks Dad."

Eleanor woke from another nightmare late in the night, and sat there, heart pounding and sweat cooling on her skin, waiting to see if she'd cried out and woken her father, but all was silent. It was no good. You couldn't wait for bravery to somehow turn up, not if you didn't have any. She went downstairs and sat on the sofa in the dark. The dog padded up to her and laid its head on her lap, and she patted it, absently, tears slowly leaking from her eyes again. She was miserable. She was miserable, and afraid, and utterly wretched, and it was all just so massively **unfair **that she still felt this way even though it was supposedly all over. But it wasn't all over, and it never would be, no matter how long she waited. She would just start feeling guilty as well. What did you do when you simply couldn't do what you had to do? What did you find to replace courage? Was kindness enough to compensate? Perhaps you just had to mentally stick your hands over your ears, and look down at your feet, and charge ahead and not look where you were going. And perhaps, like her mother always said, it wouldn't look so bad in the morning.

It took her a while to find the number she was looking for amongst the chaos on her desk, and by that time she'd entirely lost her nerve again. Without quite knowing why, she wandered into the bathroom and stared at her darkened reflection in the mirror. An unwanted memory surfaced with a wave of horror. _I am going to beat you. _But she hadn't. And she wouldn't. She never would, if she didn't do something about it.

"You can do the right thing, and damn the cost and the consequences and having to see someone else looking back at you," she told her reflection, "Or you can stare in this mirror every morning and you know that you'll only ever see **her, **because you'll know, deep down, that she's taught you selfishness." She straightened, resolved again – at least for the next five minutes. "Who knows," she added, with a false brightness, "You could still be totally wrong and it won't matter at all. That'd be great!" Then she realised that it wouldn't be great, because it would damn the Tok'ra and she felt…she felt sorry for them. And it was then that she really knew, and really felt, that she had to do something.

It was after 3am when she phoned the SGC, and was eventually put through to General Hammond on a secure line, which was a bit embarrassing. All her certainty evaporated like steam.

"Dr Stewart, is there a problem?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, General," she began, flustered.

"Not at all. Isn't it the middle of the night where you are?"

"Er, yes. I need you to contact the Tok'ra for me and see if they have any biologists they could possibly spare."

"What's this about? Are you all right? Your mother phoned the SGC last week to say you had some sort of seizure." _Oh great, thanks Mum! _She hesitated. She hadn't remotely thought through how she was going to explain this one. 'I had a weird dream' didn't quite cut the mustard.

"Dr Stewart?"

"Yes, I'm all right. I've come up with an idea about how I was able to resist the Goa'uld, and I think it might prove useful if it's correct. I'd like to come back and do some research to test my hypothesis." There. She'd said it. Too late now.

"Okay then. I'll make arrangements. Fill me in on the details when you get here." She hung up. Her father was long since asleep. The silence in her flat was deafening. The dog was looking at her, and she didn't feel the least bit better for finally doing it; she was still miserable and afraid, and it would probably only get worse. _**Your kindness will kill you.**_

"Shut up!"

//

Eleanor was in a heightened state of alertness, but keeping very, very quiet, aware that the time was fast approaching when she had to act. The Red Queen was in an utterly foul mood, and she was the one who would bear the brunt of it. Eurys had in fact been restless and intemperate all day; she had outright snapped at Baal, who, surprisingly, had let it pass, smirking over some private amusement, which had unsettled Eurys deeply. The Goa'uld was feeling distinctly unwell, and getting paranoid about it. She didn't understand what being unwell felt like; she only knew that it was somewhat similar to sarcophagus withdrawal, and tried to use it more and more, still without Baal finding out, which was becoming increasingly difficult for her. She wondered if he was poisoning her, and refused to eat anything that was not tasted by one of the slaves first.

The Goa'uld hastened down the corridor, heading circuitously for the sarcophagus again. This was the second time in just one day.

_He's bound to notice, if he hasn't already, _Eleanor pointed out, deciding to risk speaking, _Lie about your age as well, did you?_

_**Silence worm!**_ Eleanor screwed up the last piece of courage she had, discovered it wasn't nearly enough, and added sheer bloody-mindedness.

_Make me. _For a moment, the Goa'uld was simply too astonished to do anything. Then her rage reasserted itself.

_**You dare defy your god! **_The anticipated surge of pain hit her like a blast wave, but she held on grimly.

_Still here! And you can still hear me!_

_**You - ! Silence! **_Eurys stopped walking, trying to concentrate on shutting her up, on punishing her, on sending her back to that box. But she couldn't do it.

_You can't do it! You can't do it! You're losing control! Ha! Ahaha! _Her giddy hysteria was enough to carry her through the pain, which started feeding back to Eurys herself, and in the end the Goa'uld had to stop. She started hurrying along the corridor again.

_**When I am finished regenerating you are going to regret every miserable second of your existence! Everything that has gone before will be a paradise compared to the hell I am going to send you to!**_

'_The mind is its own place  
__And can make a heav'n of hell  
__A hell of heav'n!' _Eleanor retorted. 

___Eurys was almost running in her haste. For the first time, Eleanor could detect a frisson of panic in her. They were nearly at the room with the sarcophagus. __I am not going back into that bloody coffin! _she shouted, and, with everything she had, threw herself against the walls of her own skull. And broke through. Her body was hers again. She stopped them walking. The Red Queen was screaming obscenity at her, and she knew she couldn't hold it for long. There were footsteps approaching; it was the Goa'uld scientist who'd put the bastard parasite in her head in the first place.

_**Kill him, **_Eurys said, unexpectedly, filled with a sly malice, _**He'll find out, and neither of us wants that. He deserves it. Doesn't he deserve it, for what he did to you? **_For a long moment, the temptation to do just that rivalled Eurys for her self-control.

"My lady," the technician queried, frowning slightly, "Is something wrong?" Eleanor abruptly relinquished control back to Eurys, who grabbed briefly at the pillar for support.

"Of course not," she replied, with her usual haughty disdain, and turned on her heel, heading back to her quarters, plans thwarted. Eleanor waited until they were safely locked in her room before speaking.

_Idiot. He might have been able to help you, but it's too late now._

_**I have control!**_

_No. You don't. _Eleanor wrested her body back. Just like waking up, the second time, it was easier.

Eleanor changed clothes with frantic haste, trying to find something that was still trashy but that she could actually ride in. She slipped on a hand device that Eurys had stolen from Baal too, and flung a few useful items into a saddle bag. The Red Queen raged and raged in her mind, fighting and fighting her every step of the way. She could barely think straight. She could barely command her limbs to move. But she **was **doing it.

_**Do you think you can escape? **_Eurys raged, _**Do you really think you can get away?**_

_People only see what they expect to see, _Eleanor told her, _And nobody expects to see anybody other than Queen Eurys, out for her afternoon ride. Just you watch. I'm going to walk out of here, _Eleanor told her. And she did, still quite unable to believe it. Doing her best impression of Eurys, she flounced her way out of the castle at a leisurely pace, nose in the air, waving away the Jaffa who rushed to assist her with a contemptuous flick of the wrist. She walked right out the front door and made her way to the stables, where a slave rushed to bow before her.

"Make ready my horse at once," she commanded, well aware that her voice didn't have the Goa'uld tone to it. The stableboy stared at her a moment, gaze wild.

"At once!" she repeated, and he bowed low.

"Yes my lady!" He did as he was told, of course. He couldn't risk questioning a god, and Eurys was used to instant obedience. And if he also noticed the sweat prickling out all over her, he said nothing about that either.

She pulled herself into the saddle, heart pounding. She felt sick; adrenaline, no doubt, not to mention the bloody Goa'uld fighting her every step of the way. She was just turning for the gate, when a Jaffa guard ran up to her.

"My lady! My Lord Baal has instructed that you not ride out alone!" She cursed, inwardly. Then decided to bluff it.

"My Lord Baal does not command Queen Eurys," she retorted calmly. The Jaffa's eyes widened at the sound of her voice.

"My lady," he began, unsteadily, "I must insist you remain here." She raised the hand device, and he scrambled out the way, which was just as well, because she didn't even know if she could use it. Without waiting for him to show any more initiative, she dug her heels into the horse's flanks, and galloped out the gate as fast as she could, initially heading for the stargate, then turning off the main road and up into the hills, towards the forest. There was more than one way to escape, but still only one realistic option left to her.


	21. Chapter 21

[I'm glad people seem to think getting the background this way is working; initially I had a lot of it much earlier in the fic, but then I cut all that out and shifted it to this section, which I thought myself worked better. This chapter contains a **warning: **for attempted suicide; as usual, nothing explicit, so I haven't upped the rating. Things are building to a climax now].

* * *

**Chapter 21**

A frosty autumn's day, she stood in the quad of the college, watching the sunlight sparkle on the traces of snow on the college roofs. Watching her breath steam the air, like a little dragon.

"Eleanor, there isn't much time," the young man pressed her. She recognised his face. It was Kyen.

"Delek, I will love you forever for coming back for me, but you have to go, now. It's too dangerous."

"My dear, forever, in your case, is but a matter of minutes. You are dying. Outside, in the external world, there isn't much time. The mind cannot exist without the body."

"Then leave! Why didn't you leave like you were supposed to?"

"It is the mind that is dying; the body can be healed, but the mind, in its death throes, is taking the body with it, and there is no reason for it. Eleanor, why do you block me? Why does your fear trap you so? The Red Queen is gone. Eurys is dead."

"That's not her name," she whispered, terror writ large upon her features, "And it doesn't matter that she's dead." The sky clouded over.

"Eleanor," Delek urged, "Trust me. Show me."

"You don't know what you're dealing with here!" His chin lifted in that proud defiance she recalled so well.

"I fear no Goa'uld," he stated simply. "And nor should you. Not anymore. Eurys cannot touch you."

"Delek, you arrogant fool!" She was getting desperate. Cracks appeared in the stones; the grass in the lawn began to wither and die. "This is no child you are dealing with. She is **not** Eurys."

"Tell me," he urged, whispering as well now, and filled with a foreboding that he did not understand.

"Baal thought that part of the reason the previous implantations had failed was because the Goa'uld he picked were new larvae that had never taken a host before. So he chose Eurys for me; a minor servant in his palace, spawned perhaps a century ago. But the Red Queen is **not Eurys.**She is one who has been conniving and plotting her way for years now, back to a power she lost centuries ago; one who came from Cronus' court and who took Eurys' host without Baal's knowing. This is a former **System Lord;** she is older by far than you, and she knows all the ways of the human mind."

"Age does not necessarily equate to power," Delek pointed out, "And a System Lord has no more power over the human host than an ordinary Goa'uld. In the end, she was defeated by a human host. By you, Eleanor. You won, remember?"

"Delek you are not listening to me! I did not win! I only escaped, and only for a time. For a price. This is not a fairytale! Everybody begs! Everybody's frightened! The hero would sell her own mother to make the torture stop and a girl does not defeat a dragon! Do you think two millennia of Goa'uld hatred and scheming counts for nothing? Do you think the malice and madness honed by centuries of tyranny and the sarchophagus cannot reach beyond the grave? Do you really think that someone like that, when they were at last defeated by **a mere human host, **would just give up and **leave that host alive!"** Delek, at last, seemed to be on guard then. The darkening clouds cracked thunder; the lights in the college buildings went out, and the birdsong was silenced.

"We never did understand that," he admitted, "But we thought that the reflex to escape, her deteriorating condition, would have made it impossible for her to poison you."

"She would have killed me in an instant if she thought that was the worst she could do. She left me alive so that I could continue to **suffer**_. _And she made sure that if she couldn't have me, no one would. You are flying into a trap, a trap of memory constructed with all the malevolence of a thwarted Goa'uld desiring vengeance."

"Eleanor," he whispered, as the walls of the college crumbled down around them, "Give me her name."

"Why? What does it matter?"

"Because you will not say it. And in fairytales, those who know their enemy's name, have a power over them."

"You're crazy!"

"No. I am Tok'ra." She was staring anxiously at the gates as if expecting something to appear at any moment. "She may have two millennia of Goa'uld evil and experience to draw upon, but I have something she has never had."

"What?" Eleanor asked, desperately.

"I have learnt from my hosts." There was a terrible roaring from outside the gates, and he got up hastily.

"You have to go," she repeated, "She's coming. The Red Queen." He folded his arms around her, kissed her upon the forehead.

"You are very kind," she sighed, on a breath, shaking in his embrace.

"But you are kinder still. I believe you would pity, even a Goa'uld." Nervously she turned her lips to his ear, and whispered a name. He squeezed her tight, and pressed something secretly into her hand.

"Remember, Eleanor, that knowledge is stronger than memory," he told her, rising to go, "Do not put your trust in the weaker."

"Trust your idea of comfort to be to quote from Dracula." He smiled, kissed her once again upon the lips.

"We learn also from our nightmares." A giant, loathsome figure appeared in the ruins; a great, red dragon.

"Go!" she shouted, and he was forced from the vision.

//

Eleanor sat cross-legged upon the grass in a small forest clearing, miles from Baal's citadel. A long dagger lay across her lap and her head was tilted back against the tree trunk she was propped against, eyes closed, rivulets of sweat running, ignored, down her face. The tethered horse was cropping grass contentedly, coat shining in the shafts of sunlight arcing through the trees, and the whole glade was alive with birdsong. It was very peaceful.

In the end, they had both given up. She couldn't go any further, and the Red Queen had fallen into an exhausted silence in her mind a little while ago, at last ceasing her battle for control. There were only the external sounds, the forest sounds, and her own breath rasping in and out. It hissed suddenly as an abrupt wave of greater pain swept through her, and her whole body twitched violently. For once, it wasn't the Goa'uld's doing. Fever-wracked, trembling with exhaustion, this was a real pain, a physical pain born solely of the body that she had fought so hard to reclaim. Her dazed, agonised mind seemed unable to even sum up any emotion to attach to her predicament. She had long gone over the edge.

_**This is unbearable, **_Eurys spoke at last, _**Is it not enough that I am in agony? Must you make me endure your miserable suffering too? **_It was worth a grin, though it came out as a grimace.

_Oh I beg your pardon, I'm sure._

_**We must return to the citadel.**_

_No. _There followed another brief tussle for control. Eleanor was getting weaker and weaker, but so was Eurys, and, for the moment, she still had the edge.

_**Can you not even understand basic reason? We must use the **__**sarcophagus or we will both die.**_

_It wouldn't work anyway. This has been building for days and it hasn't worked so far. It couldn't save you now. Or me._

_**But the sarcophagus can cure all sickness**__**! I don't understand!**_

_It stands to biological reason that you cannot be compatible with every single human host. No disease has 100% mortality. Some hosts must have a natural resistance, and this sure as hell feels like an immune reaction to me. _

_**I think not, in your case. We can control the host immune system. Although now I have lost that too**__**. **_Eurys was briefly silent again, thinking. Eleanor didn't like it when she did that. Thinking usually meant scheming.

_**If the sarcophagus does not work…then this is something natural. What manner of host are you, that **__**you can have this effect on me!**_

_Why does everything have to be my fault?_

_**This is Baal's fault! **_Eurys fumed, not really listening, _**He told me you were hok'taur, but you're completely ordinary! There must be some other reason, some dark plot he's hatched!**_

_Well it's too late now, _Eleanor pointed out, wearily, _You've both plotted and deceived each other so much neither of you has achieved anything. _The Goa'uld went quiet again, surprisingly not responding to that bait. Eleanor could tell she was thinking again, turning things over in her mind, working things out, but she couldn't tell what it was she was thinking.

She took another ragged breath on another wave of pain, and splayed her hands on the warm dirt in front of her, counting fingers, moving each one at a time, until it passed. Eurys was right about one thing: this **was **unbearable, and it was time to end it, one way or the other. She had hoped to ride out far enough to reach a ravine that she had seen from the castle battlements, to throw herself off it, to be sure, but she couldn't go any further. So there was just the dagger.

_**It's only a matter of time**__**,**_Eurys spoke, unexpectedly. There was an odd 'tone' to her voice. _**You know you can't hold me off much longer, even if you weren't sick. I'll get control back and then I'll make you pay.**_

_What have you figured out? _Eleanor demanded, suspicious.

_**Beyond your ken**__**, **_was the sanctimonious reply, then suddenly, Eurys descended into self-pity. _**Too late, too late now I see what is happening to me!**_

_So you finally realised you've lost. Now will you leave or what? You'll only suffer more if you stay. _But the Red Queen was all baleful malevolence again.

_**You belong to me, and you always will. You will be hunted by the Goa'uld for as long as you live for what you are, and you will know the torment of the host again. You will never be free, but if I cannot have you, then no one will**__**.**_

_You know something, don't you. You know why I'm different. Why I'm ho__k'taur. I'll get the answer, you'll see if I don't._

_**Do you think you can read my memories as I can yours? How laughable.**__** You cannot touch the mind of a god.**_

_I don't have to. I'll figure it out! I'll work out the answer myself._

_**And where do you think the answer will be? In all those stupid books you read? Where the answer lies the Red Queen lies also. You will find only me. **_Eleanor struggled a moment, but Eurys was indomitable, and immovable. She wasn't going to give anything else up. It was probably just a distraction anyway, a way to buy time to try and get control back. But it was all over now.

_Well, if that's the way it's going to be, then i__t's time to end this, _Eleanor said, picking up the dagger, hoping she got this right first time. _Everything has to come to an end. _It had only been a matter of time, after all, and they were both out of time now.

_**Is that what you**__** hoped for? Death? How pathetic.**_

_No. I hoped that something would change. Something else. But I'll take death if that's all there is._

_**I cannot believe you would kill yourself now when you have fought so hard to live**__**, **_Eurys remarked.

_No. I fought to escape, not to live. I'm not such a fool to know that I could get even the smallest part of my life back. Even if I could keep control effortlessly and forever, it wouldn't be enough. _It wouldn't, either. She couldn't get rid of the Goa'uld, and with their roles reversed, she would be the jailor, and, she knew, in time, the tormentor.

_**Go back. I'll take another host. You can still live. You know I'm not ly**__**ing.**_

_I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, _she retorted, _Here's an idea: Why don't you just get the hell out of my body?_

_**And die? If I'**__**m dying, I'm taking you with me.**_

_No, _Eleanor retorted, _If I'm dying, I'm taking *you* with me._

_**Then your last act will be one of murder. I th**__**ought you thought you were good.**_

_This is your doing, and we're dying anyway. We can do it slowly, or quickly. And it's *my* choice._

_**You're not brave enough**__**, **_Eurys taunted, but it backfired.

_No, I'm not, _Eleanor agreed, _But I'm desperate enough. _With her last strength, she pushed herself to her feet, pushed down the Goa'uld's last, frantic struggles. She didn't think she could do this sitting down. Die standing facing your enemy, she thought, grimly. The blade of the dagger glinted in the sunlight. The handle was fashioned into a coiled serpent grip. She gripped it in both hands and tried to think of something nice. She failed. She was through with pretending she was somewhere better, with someone better; through with denying reality. Not at the last. No last words, no epic battle. No loved ones, no comfort, no one to know the sacrifice, and nothing bought with the sacrifice to make it somehow worthwhile. No good to come of it at all. Just a lonely, painful, pointless death; another snuffing out of an insignificant flicker of life in the vast cosmos. Just like it always was. No gods, no afterlife, nothing.

"Good," she said out loud, defiant.

_**Wait! **_The Goa'uld screeched, but she ignored her, turned the blade to her chest and gripped the handle. _**The horse! You forgot the horse! **_She wavered.

_What?_

_**What if it's not found? Would you have it starve? Untether it**__**. **_She blinked, chagrined. She had forgotten about that.

"Dammit." Sighing, she reversed the blade then staggered slowly, painfully, over to the oblivious horse. It was only after the first couple of steps that she remembered that Eurys didn't care about the horse anymore than she cared about anyone but herself, and then it was too late.

The blade dropped from her grasp, her hands seized up; her whole body locked up and she tumbled heavily to the ground. The sky rolled sideways above her, and the mocking voice rolled around and around her head.

_**Do you think you can defy a god? **_Then suddenly there was no forest, and no sky; nothing real at all.

//

The dying woman upon the bed suddenly twitched violently. Her eyes opened and flashed; her lips moved. One word, uttered:

"Atropos."

"Delek!" Darin shouted, but her eyes shut again. They looked around, bewildered. By the door, Selmak clutched his chest, looking stricken.

"No," he murmured, "It cannot possibly be….not **her**_…_"

"Who?" Darin demanded, echoed by Dr Frasier, and O'Neill, and just about everyone in the room, except Daniel, who also showed a flash of recognition, and dashed out.

"She was once a System Lord," Selmak managed, "We thought her dead…"

Daniel ran back in, heavy book in hand.

"Atropos!" He declared triumphantly, "In Ancient Greece she was one of the three Moirae, Goddesses of fate and destiny. Her Roman equivalent was Morta. She was often depicted holding a pair of shears or scissors."

"That doesn't sound so scary," O'Neill pointed out, confused.

"Yeh, I don't think she was the goddess of gardening, Jack. Atropos was the oldest of the Three Fates, and was known as the 'inflexible' or 'inevitable'. It was Atropos who chose the mechanism of death and ended the life of each mortal by cutting their thread with her 'abhorred shears'. At a later period their remit expanded to include not only death, but deciding the fate of individuals."

"The Goa'uld that took over Dr Stewart, is a **death goddess?" **Jack repeated, incredulous, "Well, that **sucks**_._"

"Hang on a minute," Carter interrupted, "I'm not trying to belittle what happened to Eleanor here, but Atropos **wasn't **a death goddess. She just portrayed herself as one."

"That's not really the issue," Jacob answered, seeming to have recovered from his earlier shock, or possibly answering because Selmak hadn't, "A Goa'uld that ancient, after centuries of sarchophagus use, has got to be considered a very dangerous and not exactly sane individual. Atropos always embraced her identity very readily; it's likely she really believes she is a death goddess." He paused, then Selmak took over again.

"I encountered Atropos only briefly," he said, "But I remember more from Egeria. I fear Colonel O'Neill's earlier fears about what she did to Eleanor are probably entirely justified. She was notorious amongst the System Lords for torturing her hosts, and went through them at a prolific rate. She was equally bloodthirsty with her subjects, and devised numerous inventive ways of executing people."

"The Tok'ra tried to assassinate her on more than one occasion," Anise added, "But in the end we succeeded in removing her from power only indirectly, by supplying information about her defences to a rival System Lord whom we considered less of a menace."

"Who?" asked Daniel.

"Lord Yu. Her power dwindled and after suffering numerous other defeats she disappeared entirely from our knowledge. We had considered that she must have died some time ago."

"Apparently not," said Jack, "Take it from me. Those Goa'uld are harder to stamp out than cockroaches."

"Yes, but she's definitely dead now," Daniel pointed out, "I mean, how can she be affecting Eleanor at this point in time?"

"Never underestimate the cruelty and the deviousness of a Goa'uld out for revenge, Dr Jackson," Anise replied, her voice not altogether steady, "As Atropos, she would have believed that she had the capability to decree the manner and timing of death her host. It's probable that towards the end she must have realised, at least in part, what was happening to her. She must have detected the changes occurring in her own body. And she may have been able to subtly sabotage Eleanor's brain in such a manner as to ensure that, if the metamorphosis process were ever triggered again, she would definitively die, and take the symbiote with her. Thus ensuring both her revenge against the host that defied her, and any other symbiote, who would dare to take the host she couldn't have."

"But Eleanor gained control towards the end…" Darin protested, weakly, "How could Atropos do that then?"

"Much of the neural connection would have remained intact, and the damage may have been done before she lost complete control," Anise pointed out, though she sounded extremely reluctant to do so. Darin's head dipped briefly.

"But it is likely she would have assumed that rival symbiote would be Goa'uld," Malek said; his voice was steadier than Darin's. Nevertheless, he sounded at the edge of his self-control, "A Tok'ra does not operate within the host mind in the same fashion. Delek knows Eleanor better than Atropos ever could have done, no matter that they have not…had much time yet."

"Do you think she can fix the damage then?" Daniel asked, intently.

"I hope so. But I do not know," Malek admitted, "I do not know who will win this fight."


	22. Chapter 22

[A short chapter this time, but the next one is longer. They didn't want to to divide up very well :P And Roeskva, that was an astute comment about Eleanor's ability to ride, which I hope I've at least partially answered in this chapter].

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**Chapter 22.**

'_Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven, that seemed as though ice burned, and was but the more ice'…_Eleanor opened her eyes. Pale sky of Wedgewood blue with white cotton puff clouds; an idyllic sky. She closed her eyes. A light breeze touching upon her face with chill fingers; the muted sounds of birdsong and susurration of tall dark pines in the wind. And inside, inside, there was, there was – only the slow, steady thump of her heartbeat, and her breath rasping in her ears. She opened her eyes again, the lids raising as slowly and unwillingly as a rusted portcullis. She should feel joyous, shouldn't she? She felt numb._'When the ghost begins to quicken, confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken by the injustice of the skies for punishment?' _

She swallowed, tried to speak.

"Uh, anuh, huh," was all that came out; her mind and mouth feeling unconnected and uncoordinated. She struggled. "Hunhph, um. M 'live. Live. Alive. I'm alive." Her entire body felt like a struck bell, but the cacophony in her mind was at last silenced. "Gone. S'gone. Bstrds gone. Mm alive." She tasted blood on her tongue, but didn't care. She tried to get up; all her muscles were trembling with exhaustion and disobedient, as though her brain had forgotten how to drive it's own body. Eventually she resorted to rolling onto her front like a baby and pushing up slowly onto her hands and knees, coughing and hacking up a gobbet of thick, bloody drool onto the ground. "Nogood," she muttered, when she finally got her breath back. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed bleach or something and her whole left arm was shaking like a leaf. Why the hell couldn't she speak properly? Slowly, she sat back on her haunches, wobbling a little, having some trouble balancing.

Next to her on the dirt was the still form of the parasite that had infested her; no longer the monstrous great Red Queen of her mind, just a horrible wormy thing; red-streaked and blotchy, its' innards half-falling out. A wave of revulsion and hatred swept her with such force her vision sparkled over and before she knew it she had grabbed the nearest rock and beat its remains to an unrecognisable pulp.

"I go'you," she gasped, sagging back onto the ground, "I got you. I won. I'm free." _Even if the blasted thing probably brain-damaged me on the way out, _she thought to herself, and passed out again.

//

_**I believe you would pity even a Goa'uld**__. _The mocking voice rang in her head, and she woke with a panicked start, but the voice was only a memory, and she was alone, and free. It was dark and she was frozen through. The tethered horse was whinnying softly. Frost glittered on the remains of the creature still lying next to her. Her hands and feet were numb. She had to get up. She had to do something. She had escaped from the monster, something she thought impossible. She didn't understand quite what had happened. One minute, she had been going to release the horse, prior to ending it all, then the Goa'uld had made one last bid for control, and she thought she'd lost her chance. Now she was here, and it was gone, and she was still alive.

Okay, never mind. She got lucky. Now she only had to somehow return to Earth, something that was also impossible, or, if not, find a way to live here, which seemed equally impossible. Well, first things first.

She managed to get to her feet with a minimum of difficulty, so perhaps she was not as damaged as she thought, although she couldn't stop the tremor in her left hand. She leant against the side of the patient horse, soaking up the animal's warmth, and eventually had the sense to pull the water bottle from the saddlebag and take a few tentative sips; agony to her poor throat, but a necessary one.

"No' whut?" she asked herself out loud. Bits and pieces of ancient memory that weren't hers kept coming to her, disjointed and confusing, and yet they were already fading, as though her mind somehow knew they weren't hers and was casting them out as it found them. She struggled to find something to focus on. Something simple. Something with a rhythm. Something to work to.

"Wun," she managed, "Wun."

She pulled the cloak tighter about her, untethered the horse and struggled up onto his back, turned him to head away from the citadel and the horrors therein; up into the forested hills. She didn't care where she went as long as it was away; compared to what awaited her if she were recaptured, dying of starvation or exposure out here was preferable. She urged the beast to a light trot, realising as she did so, that she didn't use to know how to ride, and hoping she wouldn't forget that, at least. The memory of the body, perhaps, was greater than that of the mind.

"Wun, wun…" Why wouldn't the rest come? Disorientated, exhausted and in pain, her head a jangling confusion of kalaidoscopic thoughts and memories, she didn't even register which direction she was headed in. She just had to get away. But then the rattling of automatic gunfire sounded loud over the trees and **that **registered clear as a bell. She turned the horse towards the noise, and followed the sound down out of the treeline.

"Wun, too…."

//

There wasn't much time. So little time left, but he had it. He had it. A join where two pieces had been pasted together, and the middle section removed. Hidden. The piece that didn't fit. The missing piece. The riddle, the answer. The trick, the trap. The nightmare. With blinding, urgent speed, Delek sought, delving deep into the darkest realms of unburied memory…

_**You dare to defy a god!**_

//

"One, two…."

The gunfire was intense now. Staff weapons fire; she recognised that, but who here had automatic weapons? In her confusion, she identified it with Earth, and so she urged the horse still towards it, even though the more rational part of her mind was trying to tell her that it was total insanity to charge into the middle of a battle, and one in which one side was definitely her enemy. But maybe that meant the other side was her friend. Wasn't that the way it went, the enemy of my enemy is my friend or was that just something else she couldn't get straight? She brought her trembling left hand up to her eyes. Her head hurt so. She had to keep going. Had to.

"One, two, three four five…."

The horse almost tripped over the fallen body of a Jaffa as she reached the edge of a large clearing. Her eyes only absently registered the presence of tall standing stones in a spiralling circle, a great stone ring and battling Jaffa, fighting…

"**Americans?" **The longest word she'd managed to speak since – since before. Hope and fear resurged in tandem once again, and she swayed upon the horse. The racket in her mind was threatening to engulf her entirely.

"One, two…." She shut her eyes, gripping the saddlehorn._'There is a moment in each day'…._She flashed upon a nightmare, a dream, a story; that mocking voice, over all. _**All those stupid books you read. You are a fantasist. An escapist. Do you really think you can escape from me?**_ It was impossible to shut it out. _'I have no mouth and I must scream…' _A stranger sound than all the rest forced her eyes open again as what looked like a waterfall gushed from the centre of the stone ring, then fell back into a blue, shimmery liquid surface.

A million memories, a thousand stories. She didn't understand the one she was seeing. She didn't know what was real. She saw a soldier run towards the circle, and another, beside him, in a uniform of brown leather, eyes flashing briefly as he fired at the Jaffa. _'I already told you ma'am, it was not an indigenous lifeform, it was not from there, do you get me?...'_

"One two, three four five!" She slid off the horse onto wobbly feet, reaching towards the body of the Jaffa, and grasped the staff weapon. It felt as heavy as if it were made of lead, and it was a gargantuan effort to get back upon the horse.

"One two, three four five, once I caught a fish alive!" She dug her heels into the horse's sweating flanks and the beast surged forward with a power she herself could never have hoped to achieve.

"Six, seven, eight nine ten, then I let it go again!" Ahead of her, she could see the soldiers running for the stone ring; the first vanished into it and she understood at once that it was a gateway, flashed unbidden upon a physics teacher's face._ 'What lies below the visible world is always imaginary, a play of images. There is no other way to talk about the invisible: in nature, in art or in science.'_ Wave upon wave of memory, a storm of voices, a blizzard of images, and she had lost where she ended and the monster began. Keep it simple, keep it simple, the earliest childhood rhymes. Keep it focused. She had to focus.

"Why did you let it go?" Saw them turn to see. To see her. One of the – men/goa'uld/dragons? – was cut off by a Jaffa. '_The last great alliance of elves and men…'_ It was a story, just a story, and it would end. Or it was a dream and she would wake up. She'd forgotten which one it was. She heard a roaring noise around her. She was shouting the words, forcing them out, forcing them through the pain.

"Because it bit my finger so." A thousand facts. A thousand tales. St George upon the horse. Dragons and princesses. _'To be the _object_ of desire is to be defined in the passive case. To exist in the passive case is to die in the passive case – that is, to be killed…' _A man down on the ground before her, Jaffa raising his weapon, preparing to fire. Friend or foe? I smell the blood of an Englishman, and dragons teeth grown soldiers. _Focus!_

"Which little finger did it bite?" Oh god, I want my mother. Her whole body was on fire, like it had been, like it had been, before – when she had been there, and, no, focus, remember, remember –_'There is a moment in each day, that Satan cannot find…but the industrious find this moment, and it renovates every moment of the day, when it is rightly placed.'_ The world outside and the world inside converged, turned inside out. Lance in sweat-slicked hands, legs gripping sweat-slicked flanks, she turned the handle.

"This little finger on my right." Her finger moved, the tiniest of movements bought with the greatest of exertion. The trigger pulled back, fire belched from the staff, and the Jaffa was thrown backwards into the dirt. The horse shuddered to a halt, then reared, panicked, and threw her clean off.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

When she woke again, it was night, she was lying on the ground beside the horse, and frost glittered on the remains of the –

_No! Go back, go back! The only way out is through. Courage, Eleanor. Face her, as she never faced you._

//

Eleanor thought she heard a voice calling her, but when she opened her eyes there was only darkness over all; back to the suffocating blackness, and, for a moment, she thought that this was death, or dying, at least. But there was no light for her quickening soul to fly towards. Only the dark. The endless dark, and then that mocking voice again, echo of a memory of a remnant…

_**Your kindness will kill you**_

Shapes unseen, souls unforming, they wrestled still, locked in that endless war of nature, the battlefields of survival now sweeping their destruction across the fractured plains of her mind…and another mind also, far greater than ever her own.

Mote in the eye of the universe, she hung in the absolute vacuum, struggling to find the lost light of the world, and found only the other. The monster from the Id, come from her subconscious, its gaping maw swallowing her whole.

She saw – how she saw! So many times overflowing, so many faces blurring into one; never one she could truly call her own. Temples rose and fell, blood cascading down the slave-worn steps, fire amongst the stars. War between the gods; the everlasting desire for dominion, for worship, sharpening over the centuries into that gnawing, unbearable hunger, the ever-renewing sarcophagus now servant, now mistress; melding, repairing, twisting…

Twisting, struggling, she saw an alien landscape, faraway world, where the Unas bellowed mournfully across the primeval forest, last of the free, nowhere left to go, as there was nowhere left to go when the sun had scorched the waters and the deep belly hunger had begun…She remembered the sun, the drying of the savannah beneath the blood-red sun, ape come down from the trees, knapped flint in hand and fire, fire just within her grasp….but that was not **her **ancestral memory, it was a memory of an imagining of a knowing....

Eleanor's eyes snapped open. She stood in the motherland, where the scraggy, withered savannah trees gave way to the desert. It was dawn, and the ruins of a bonfire smouldered in front of her; bones showed amidst the flames. Worn rocks marched off into the distance, casting her into the cool of shadow at their base. Nothing moved but the whisper of the wind in the grasses, and, in the distance, a small troupe of _Australopithecus_, going out to hunt. She started after them, imperative of the social animal – stay with the group! But they wavered and disappeared like a mirage, and she was alone. She closed her eyes, willing herself elsewhere, but she could not shift the vision. She could not change anything. She was trapped in this piece of time, in this imagining, this story. She opened her eyes again. The monster approached, and she had naught but a sharpened rock and a burning branch to fight with. So she ran.

She ran across the plains, but the dinosaurpursued, and gaping jaws crushed. She ran across the snowy forest, cloak flowing, but the howling of the wolf grew ever closer on her heels, until teeth sank into flesh. She ran through metal corridors, and the Alien followed through the air shafts, punched double-jaw into chest. She ran towards a castle sanctuary, but the dragon flew down upon her and flame engulfed her. A thousand stories, a thousand monsters, she ran through them all. She ran, and stayed always in the same place.

A frightened animal, stung with the memory of pain, the prison of flesh, she stood on the plain, beside the pile of burned bones, as the blood-red sun waned, and the monster approached, a shifting apparition that finally settled into that of a woman she did not know, but knew, somehow, was a long-dead host. A beautiful queen with Grecian features; dark hair, olive eyes, flowing robes of saffron and gold, crown upon her head. A favoured look.

"Still you cling to your tiny mind like a monkey to a vine."

"It is **my **mind, and I want no part of yours." Her own voice rasped in her ears.

"You could never comprehend such greatness." The voice was almost seductive now, "But you could become part of it. You could have that which you desire the most; the knowledge you prize above all else. The highest learning of the Goa'uld."

"No. It isn't knowledge if you haven't **learnt **it. You took it, like you take everything."

"And 'Life History Strategies of the Xoridinae Ichneumonoid Wasps,' is what you call **learning? **Four years of your life, Eleanor, for that? Of what use is that?" That had been her PhD title, and she would argue that she had learnt a great deal, but what defence did one have against an enemy that knew everything about you?

"You wouldn't be trying to bargain with me if you weren't losing," she pointed out, instead, trying, without success, to shift their shared vision again.

"I am a god!"

"No, you're not." She was too tired for this, but insight came to her when most she needed it, and she cocked her head to one side, considering, "How can you call yourself a god when you cannot even create? You only ever destroy." A sibilant hiss, and her dragon was back. There was nowhere to run, and so she fought, fought to the last, tooth and claw, fought her to a standstill, until they both lay bleeding and dying upon the sand. The Red Queen howled and shrieked, an unearthly, agonised thing. She crawled over to her.

"Atropos."

"Why do you finally accord me the honour of my name?"

"Because you finally accorded me the honour of mine." She was despairing, almost bewildered. "Why have you done this? Why are you **like** this?" An angry hiss.

"I am what I am. As you are."

"You are a sentient being! And sentient beings have a choice! If you had come to me as an equal, if you weren't so damned….cruel…." but Atropos was laughing, bitterly, humourlessly.

"Would you have me be like a pathetic Tok'ra?"

"A what?" Eleanor frowned, bells ringing in her memory, and, almost without thought, she reached towards Atropos' mind, recoiling instantly at what she saw. The dying Goa'uld grinned toothily at her.

"You cannot touch the mind of a god." Eleanor looked at the image of the dying queen before her, and, against all her better reason, against all her expectation, felt a stir of compassion.

"Three thousand years of hatred? Is that what the mind of a god is? Have you never known a joy that was not bought at another's expense? A happiness that **lasted? **Have you never known peace? You must be the most wretched being in the universe. And you know it. No wonder you're always trying to make me feel worse." Atropos laughed again, coughing bloodily.

"Would you pity even a Goa'uld? Your kindness will kill you."

"Then at least when I die it will be in the knowledge that you have not taught me cruelty." But Atropos' smile was triumphant, her eyes filled with malice, as she somehow pulled herself to her feet. Eleanor could not do the same.

"You will know **nothing. **I am Atropos, Queen of the Fates! **I **cut the cord of life! **I **decide the death of mortals!" She leaned closer, pulled Eleanor towards her. "Remember, Eleanor: you belong to me, and you always will. You will never be free, and if I cannot have you, then no one will."

"Then you will have to kill me." A cruel smile.

"Yes…but not now. Not when there's still so much for you to suffer still. Do you remember, Eleanor, that summer you helped in the hospice? Do you remember the dying soldier trapped in the memory of a war ended years ago, whilst his weeping family stood unrecognised and unnoticed by his bedside? If you escape the Goa'uld and find your kind again, if you live to be as old as he, and build your human fantasies of love and living all around you like a shield, it will all be in vain. For **I** will still be here, and when you die, you will remember none of what has gone before, and none of what has come after. You will only remember Atropos. You will exist here, and now, and nothing else will be real for you but the Red Queen, and the suffering. **That **is how you will die." She released her then, letting her fall back into the dirt. Against her will, her eyes closed.

//

Eleanor woke. The night sky reeled above her. The Red Queen was gone. She must have passed out when she went to untether the horse. She struggled to her feet and –

_No! Go back! Go back!_

A thousand stories, a thousand nightmares, she relived them all. Her escape from the citadel had been in vain, to die like this, trapped in another prison of the mind, when nobody even knew what had happened to her.

"You will only remember Atropos. You will only know this. This moment, and this suffering….and when you die, you will die here."

"Maybe," Eleanor croaked, summoning up a last surge of defiance, "Or maybe not. You're going to look pretty stupid and ungodlike if I get run over by a bus instead." Atropos quirked a smile.

"On your Earth, that you will never find? I think not. You will die here, and now, and you will know only Atropos."

"Maybe," Eleanor repeated, stubbornly, "But I won't die alone, like you. No one will come for you. No one will save you. No one will fight for you. And when you are gone, you will be forgotten. Your name will be not be spoken by anyone. But I am loved! And I will always be loved. When I am dead, someone will speak my name. Someone will fight for me. Someone will come for me. Someone will come for me….I have a greater strength than you, because I have the strength of others…" She fell back into the sand. She felt her heart stopping. Atropos had vanished. Her eyes surrendered to the inevitable.

//

The shrill alarms of the monitors sounded like the death wail of a banshee, as Dr Frasier and the crash team charged in.

"What happened?" someone yelled. Malek couldn't even tell who it was. He was almost at the point of despair, and only Darin's tenuous, tenacious human line of hope was keeping him going.

"I don't know, their brain readings went crazy and they just suddenly crashed!" Frasier responded, then turned round to address them face to face. "If Delek's going to do something, she better do it fast."

"They're synchronising," said Anise, reading the monitors with a puzzled frown on her face.

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea."

"Well we're nearly out of time here!" At the limits of what she could do, Frasier was all business-like urgency. "If Delek doesn't leave in time can you make her, or get her out somehow?" Anise and Malek exchanged a dismayed glance.

"Possibly," Anise said at last.

//

Eleanor woke. It was night, and the Red Queen was gone – no, no, something was not right – something was dragging her back…

_Eleanor!_

"You will die here. You will remember nothing of what has gone before and nothing of what has come after. You will only remember Atropos." She lay on the sand by the cold ashes of the bonfire, slowly dying. What good was her escape when it came down to this in the end? To die like this, in this nightmare, with the Goa'uld along with her? Forgotten and alone and without hope or help? She coughed blood upon the sand and rolled to her back, pushed herself onto her hands. Her dragon approached; _Tyrannosaurus rex, _king of the dinosaurs. She was alone, with naught but a stick in one hand and a rock in the other. She glanced at it: it was quite useless as a weapon; a grainy sandstone with a fossilised, fish-like creature in it. She frowned. There was something…_'Knowledge is stronger than memory.'_ She glanced at the dinosaur.

"This is not your time," she told it, "You never co-existed with humans. You've been extinct for millions of years. This isn't **real**," she told it, and the vision wavered, became the Red Queen once again.

"I am Atropos, and I am your death."

The vision wavered, and she saw herself, saw herself on the outside looking down at her body lying on the ground by the horse. She had never left that moment; there was just her, and Atropos.

"You will only remember Atropos. You will only know this. This moment, and this suffering….and when you die, you will die here."

"No," Eleanor rejected that, almost instinctively. "No, that's not true." She gripped the fossil in her hand. She had no idea where it came from, or what it represented, or why it had suddenly appeared in her hand, but none of that mattered, because she knew what it **was.**

"This is the mineralised body of an animal that went extinct millions of years ago, and it seems a strange thing to remember doesn't it, when I can't even remember my own mother's face? But I know I must have a mother, because it's a biological fact, and you can take everything I am but you can't take what I **know**."

"That means precisely nothing."

"Knowledge is power," Eleanor retorted, feeling on the edge of something.

"Do you really think you can defeat a god?" The voice mocked once more, but Eleanor had her answer, her awful answer, and gave a bitter laugh.

"A god? I doubt it. After all, I can't even defeat a lousy jumped-up fascist of a tapeworm, can I? I admit it. I've lost. I surrender. Will you go away now?" The Red Queen laughed.

"I am a god, and I am your death."

"Fine," said Eleanor, "You're right. I'm nothing, but so are you. It doesn't matter if I defeat you or if I don't. None of this will matter. All your achievements are nothing in the eye of history. You will disappear and be forgotten; your empires will crumble and your species will dwindle until it is no more." She held up the fossil. "In millions of years, there won't even be a trace of you in the rocks. Time…..time is the great enemy of power, and you are not god enough to defeat time. Something must change. It's inevitable." She stared once more at the rock, _And perhaps, something already has changed, and I just don't remember what it is, like you wouldn't understand how a fish ever swam in the desert if you didn't know about geology. _

She surrendered and fell back upon the ground. The last agonised death throes of Atropos came to her ears, then silence. Her eyes closed and she felt the warm wind breeze across her face. She thought this was the part where she died. Or woke up. Wasn't this the part where she woke up? She saw herself lying by the horse, but surely…surely that was over. Past. Fossilised. Flashes of faces came to her, faces she had not known before….and yet she knew….

Groggily, she opened her eyes, pushed up onto her elbows. There was no sign of the Red Queen. The sands were cooling in the dusk; the rocks, dyed bloody by the setting sun, glinted with mineralised serpentine forms. Of course, this had all happened a long time ago, she knew that, it was something real, it was a fact....and yet, what came after, was a blank to her. Perhaps, in the end, it was that old test of trust. To fall when you couldn't see if someone was there to catch you. To exist in uncertainty, when you ran out of knowledge. To wait, and see if something changed. Because everything did, in the end, by chance or necessity. Change meant death. Change meant those that couldn't change became extinct. But those that didn't…

In the sky, a dark sinuous shape appeared, silhouetted against the sun, growing larger the closer it approached: a great, winged dragon shape wheeling in the sky above, circling down and down towards her, closer and closer….In terror, she flung her hand over her face, and something tickled against it. She opened her eyes again, stared dumbly at it, confused. She knew…she knew nothing. There was nothing. There was only Atropos. But this thing…this soft thing she vaguely remembered. No, she **did** know it. She knew it because it was a fact, and she remembered where it came from. She dared to look up at the sky once more, as the great winged shape resolved itself, hurtling towards her, and found that something had changed, and she both knew what it was and didn't understand at all.

"Bird," she stated, and her mind filled with the presence of another.

//

A Tok'ra guard rushed in and handed Malek a small device, and he stared at in mute horror before O'Neill abruptly snatched it off him.

"No, someone else do it!" he snapped, glaring at the guard. Everybody stared at each other. Anise began to step hesitantly forward, and Jack handed it to her. She affixed it to the base of Eleanor's skull, and returned her attention to the monitors. The entire room was silent apart from the busily working crash team, then even they stepped back. The blip of the heart monitor finally flatlined.

"I think – " began Anise.

"Wait!" shouted Janet, staring at an anomalous blip on the Tok'ra monitor, and everyone froze. "I don't believe it…" she added, as the machines began chirping all at once. "Her heart just re-started by itself."

//

Eleanor felt herself carried, floated aloft, drifting as if on a stream, drifting almost to sleep, then awake again. That…other, was still there. She knew it. She felt she should…remember, but she couldn't. She only knew it was not Atropos.

_Who are you? _she questioned at last.

_Rest, _a voice said, and it sounded familiar too, _Be at peace. I will be here when you sleep, and here still when you wake. You are safe. _She wanted to resist, to protest, to ask questions; but she felt calm and secure, and without pain, and so very, very tired, and it was the easiest thing in the world to drift away again.

**End Part 4**

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**[Yes, finally, the end of part 4! If you made it this far, I salute you. We're (mostly) back to the real world for part 5, which will be shorter and lighter! Thanks for reading :) ]**


	24. Chapter 24

[Again, sorry for the delay in starting part V folks, it's not as complete as the rest, and I've been very busy. But it's ticking along now so the rest should follow at the decent intervals.]

* * *

**PART 5**

"The mark of the immature person is that they want to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature person is that they want to live humbly for one."  
(William Stekel)

"In dreams begins responsibility" (W B Yeats)

* * *

**Chapter 24**

The crowd clustering round the bed in the infirmary (much to Janet's annoyance) was now a hopeful, expectant one, as both Eleanor's and Delek's vital signs steadily climbed back into the green, and they began to hope that they – or one of them, anyway – would wake up. At last, with a deep sigh, her eyelids slowly flickered open, and her eyes flashed.

"Delek," Malek said, the relief evident in his tone, "Are you all right? Is Eleanor?"

"We will be fine," Delek replied, smiling tiredly.

"You gave us quite a scare back there," Frasier commented, offering her a glass of water, and adding, pointedly, "Several times."

"Sorry about that," said Delek, not sounding very sorry at all, "It was quite difficult to fix all the injury."

"How are you feeling now?" Frasier wanted to know. Delek made a face.

"As my host would say, like death warmed over. Any other silly questions?"

"What exactly happened?" asked Daniel, choosing to ignore Delek's tetchiness.

"That is between myself and my host. Suffice to say that, amongst her other atrocious acts, Atropos attempted to corrupt Eleanor's memory so that she would recall nothing but her possession by the goa'uld."

"But you stopped it?"

"I tried, but in the end I could not. Instead, I have repaired the damage that was done."

"Can we speak to Eleanor?" asked Jack.

"Not yet. She must rest a little while longer, as must I."

"Well tell her her family's arriving shortly," Daniel added, and Delek nodded, looking fatigued already.

"Okay, you heard the lady," Frasier said brusquely, "Let's give them a little peace." The others filed out, a little disappointed, but mostly simply relieved.

"Malek can stay," said Delek, in response to a slightly pleading look, and Frasier relented.

"You actually look worse than we feel," observed Delek, as Malek/Darin collapsed in a chair next to them.

"Do you have any idea what you put us through?" was all Malek could manage.

"Yes. Sorry. I was as fast as I could."

"What happened? What did you mean…all those things you said before…what of Atropos?" Malek trailed off, unsure how to phrase it, or even if he should go there. Delek's mouth set in a hard line; an expression Eleanor never used.

"That was the most singularly horrific thing I have ever known," she said, shortly, then, in the face of their distress, softened a little. "Atropos…took Eleanor as a host without Baal's knowing who she truly was. It was part of the reason she did not seek his help when she began to feel ill; any scans would have revealed her to be older than Eurys, the Goa'uld she was impersonating, but Atropos…was an ancient and powerful Goa'uld, and a deeply malevolent one, of questionable sanity."

"Selmak and Daniel told us this," Malek said, quietly, and Delek looked briefly surprised. "But what happened? What did she do?" Delek sighed.

"She did not understand what was happening to her. She tried to cure herself, of course, by resorting to the sarcophagus, which helped a little, but naturally the metamorphosis kept re-asserting itself, and it was not, in the end, a sickness, so the technology probably could not respond accurately to the problem. Eleanor began to regain control incrementally at first, as Atropos slept, without the Goa'uld realising, then finally she managed to gain control completely, at least for a time. So she took the horse and escaped the castle, although at this point, she was becoming very ill herself.

"It seems clear that Atropos must at last have realised what was happening to her; the changes in her own body would eventually have become clear to her. It was equally clear that she knew she was dying and at this point, Eleanor had taken them both beyond any help. So she exacted her revenge in the only way she could, by sabotaging Eleanor's mind. Eleanor had previously tried to mentally escape her mental tortures by retreating to the world of her memories, and imagination; in fact, usually a mixture of the two. Atropos took her twisted inspiration from this and ensured that – if the right physiological conditions happened again, namely another fatal metamorphosis event – then it would trigger a loop in Eleanor's mind, of both reconstructed memory, and fabricated imagination. In short, she would become trapped in her memories of Atropos and her tortures, and would forget everything else; in fact, every unrelated memory she had would be wiped entirely as her brain began dying. Then, she erased any trace of what she had done and replaced it with a false memory of Eleanor's ultimate escape from her. Eleanor woke to find the Goa'uld dead and assumed she had simply passed out as Atropos left her.

"Atropos correctly assumed that the System Lords – Baal, if no one else – would hunt Eleanor down to re-implant her with another Goa'uld because they would become as desparate for a queen as we were, and, as she was dying, it would be her future revenge: that no other Goa'uld would become the queen she should have been, and that the host that had ultimately killed her would herself suffer a terrible death, believing herself to still be possessed by Atropos. To say nothing of what the new Goa'uld would be doing to her. It also seems likely that, even had Eleanor not been taken by another Goa'uld, had she suffered a death that was not in any way instant, her dying mind would have taken her back to that place of suffering as well. For this reason alone Atropos left her body before she died: so that her host could live to suffer again." Malek looked away briefly, trying to regain his composure.

"How can one begin to comprehend such evil?" he murmured, almost to himself. "How can one ever begin to repair such hurt?" Delek reached and squeezed his hand, weakly, but with conviction.

"As to the former, I do not know, but Eleanor would tell you that she has seen what the mind of a Goa'uld is truly like, and that, ultimately, she pitied it." Malek shook his head, incredulously.

"Well I do not," he muttered. "What of the latter? Will Eleanor recover, psychologically?" Delek looked troubled, but her face had not lost its determined set, and she lifted her chin in that oh-so-familiar proud defiance.

"She will, because I say she will." Malek's mouth twisted wryly.

"Not good enough, my love."

"She will," Delek repeated, in a more measured tone, "But it will take a great deal of time, and distance. She seemed to be coping so well before because she had buried the worst of what had happened to her deep in her subconscious, aided by Atropos' hidden conditioning, and had her task of helping us to focus on. Now it has not only been unburied, but relieved, and magnified, over and over again."

"But now she has you," Darin commented, unexpectedly, "And you are the only one who really understands what she went through. Atropos never predicted that Eleanor would host a Tok'ra, and her revenge has been thwarted."

"How **did **you do that?" Malek wanted to know, sure that Delek would want to tell, and indeed, although she had been looking very tired before, she perked up a little bit at a chance to describe her own cleverness.

"Come now, Malek, you must know that a Goa'uld has no real interest in the memories of its' host. I knew them far better than Atropos did; she only took what was useful to her. Moreover, it is genetic **memory **that our kind passes on; it is not learning. It is far harder to erase factual knowledge, particularly that learnt slowly and with great effort. I found a way in through Eleanor's knowledge. In Atropos' nightmare constructions, Eleanor's image of the goa'uld morphed from a monster to a dinosaur, because her mind was insisting on trying to cast things into a scientific mould, knowing, below the level of conscious thought, that what she was seeing was not consistent: did not make sense. So I gave her a scientific puzzle, my own piece that did not fit. Thus she realised that the reality she was in was not what it seemed, and thus I found her." Malek nodded slowly.

"So, it is over then."

"Yes," Delek agreed, "As terrible as it was, it is over now, and over forever. It will never come back to haunt her again when she lies dying. She has me, and moreover she has many that love her. You are right, Darin. Atropos herself, despising what she perceived as her host's weak, soft-hearted nature, said that Eleanor would be killed by her own kindness; it is somewhat ironic that it was very nearly true, but in the end it has been its own reward, and it is one that will grow. She will see in time that what she did for us is a courage that far outweighed any of her self-perceived cowardice against the Goa'uld, and she will see that Atropos did not teach her cruelty after all, which will release her from the taint she feels, and the violation of her soul. And she will bring us life, and joy, and a future, against which all of the evil of the Goa'uld will fade like a nightmare with the dawn."

"You're not telling us everything," Darin added. "Is she really still asleep?"

"Ah, Darin, ever the observant one. I did not wish to worry you before. When I said that I had repaired the damage to Eleanor's memory before, I was not telling entirely the truth. I have repaired all the physical damage, but the memories are still gone. That is why Eleanor is still asleep; it would have been too distressing and frightening for her to wake and know nothing of where she was and who she was with."

"But you can surely remedy that," Malek pointed out.

"Yes," agreed Delek, "But I also intend to offer her the choice she didn't have before. And hope that she will make the same decision."

"I see," said Malek, pondering this. "So you are now able to leave her if you choose to do so?"

"At this current stage, yes. I am not yet fully re-blended with her." Malek thought about this a while longer.

"We find we do not wish you to leave either," he said at last, looking uncomfortably at his feet, and Delek smiled gently back at him.

"Good. We will see what Eleanor says, but I have a hopeful feeling. It makes a change."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25.**

It was a perfect summer's day. The sky above was a perfect wedgewood blue; the brown river meandering lazily through a meadow of verdant grass, lush with wildflowers. A magnificent grey horse was munching the grass contentedly. Birds sang and danced through the air, and a sense of mellow calm spread through her.

Eleanor sat up slowly, sleepy and slightly confused. She glanced around her. In the distance spires could be seen, but she did not recognise them. She didn't recognise anything. She only remembered Atropos, and a never-ending nightmare that was suddenly –

"Eleanor," said a gentle voice. She turned around, startled. A young man with chestnut hair and dark blue eyes was sitting cross-legged in the grass beside her. He wore a strange brown uniform. She was sure he hadn't been there before.

"Is that my name?" she asked at last, "I wasn't sure." He smiled.

"Yes. Do you remember mine?" She struggled.

"You are not me," she stated, calm and unafraid, "I have not met you. I have not…dreamt you. But you're not her either."

"You said that to me once before."

"I – I'm sure I've seen you before," she temporised, "I remember – " she brought her hands to her head. "This can't be real. Only Atropos is real."

"It's not real," the man agreed, "It's a construction. A fantasy." He pressed something into her hand. It was a small fossil. She stared at it.

"I **do **remember," she said, wonderingly, "You were there. In the courtyard. I know your face, but I don't remember your name." She struggled to control a sudden flood of emotions, turning the worn stone over and over in her hands.

"I remember…facts," she said at last, "The names of things." A strained laugh. "An awful lot about some nasty parasitic wasp for some reason. Science. Rhymes. Words. But the only other person I remember is Atropos. The only memories I have, are of Atropos." She stared despairingly at the young man.

"I remember that I said I would love you forever for coming back for me, and I think I do, but there's nothing left of me, is there? It's gone. It's all gone. What good is knowledge? It's not love. There's only Atropos and I don't…I don't think I can carry on like this. I don't think I can start again. I have nothing. I **am **nothing, and nothing is left of me." But the man hushed her, taking her hands in his own, and stood, obliging her to rise with him.

"Eleanor," he said, kissing her on the forehead, then both cheeks, "Nothing is lost. Nothing is forgotten. You gave it to me, and now I can give it all back to you." She stared desperately at him, willing herself to understand. He was alien; the same as Atropos. And yet he wasn't. "Will you trust me?" he asked, solemnly.

"You haven't even told me your name yet." He smiled again.

"I have no name; I am but two days old…" Recognition flooded her, and she smiled back,

"What shall I call thee?"

"I happy am, Joy is my name." Still holding her hands, he danced her about, drawing closer, as they sang the poem to each other.

"Sweet joy befall thee! Pretty joy! Sweet joy but two days old. Sweet Joy I call thee."

"Thou dost smile, I sing the while; Sweet joy befall thee!" His eyes shone with light and delight, and at last they met in an embrace. And suddenly her mind was opened.

/

Eleanor had braced herself for a sudden overwhelming flood of memory and shared emotion; in fact, it started with only one recalled image, that of her own: Delek, in Kyen, sitting dying against the rock_. "What about you?" "You cannot be serious." _That face she remembered so well, the face she had first known him in. _"Take care of my Delek, and he will protect you." _Then it began trickling in; disjointed recollections of her life as herself and her life with Delek, the line oft blurred between them. The joy and dumb wonder of first blending, the great outpouring of memory and shared emotion, a whole new way of being, a whole new world….she remembered laughing with her brothers, splashing in the sea, before the dark time, when the goa'uld came…the train of thought was abruptly terminated, and then she was in a lab; just sitting at a computer running tests, late at night, with no one else around, waiting, just waiting. She didn't know what she was waiting for or what it meant, before it was snatched away. She felt her delight and awe as she ringed into the crystal tunnels for the first time. She felt Delek's despair and anger over the escalating Tok'ra deaths; the overwhelming desire for caution and protective secrecy, for isolation. _"Secrecy is our only weapon. It's the only way we've ever known.'_" The fear beneath the face he presented: a late-born Tok'ra, their war had already been waging for centuries and their early great successes were no more. Then the Tau'ri came and all the long slow planning seemed for naught, even as their numbers were pitilessly reduced. She saw Malek, not as Malek, but within Darin, saw a love held fast for only the briefest of chances and through the worst of times. She saw the Council, arguing, and herself stepping forward. Strangest indeed, she saw herself, alone, without a body, in the holding tank of her mind; a blind and silenced creature in a watery world of thought and muted memory. A half-life; waiting, waiting, crying with loneliness with no one to hear; bereft, tortured. Then she'd escaped, and everything had changed.

Delek waited then, checking to see if she was still with him, which she was, her earlier trepidation forgotten and curiosity in the ascendant again, hand in hand with hope. She desired memory, and it flooded in, a blizzard of memories like snowflakes, innumerable and individual, unique.

…A first, impassioned kiss under the tree in the starlight; she had thought it so romantic. Her heart was pounding so loudly against her ribcage she thought the whole street must hear, or that it might burst.

"_Ellie…"_ a whispered breath, and she reached to brush the falling leaves from his hair… Memory to memory, fragment to fragment; now back, now forth. Parents, brothers, friends, lovers…moments of joy, moments of triumph, even moments of grief, she lost herself in them all…fleeing from herself and what had become of herself, for as long as she could….

…Her mother, years ago, she couldn't have been more than four, teaching her to count. An early, early memory. Her mother sang, taking her fingers and wiggling them one by one, as she laughed and giggled.

"_One two, three four five, _

_Once I caught a fish alive! _

…"_This little finger on my right!"…_she shot the Jaffa and the horse reared and threw her off.

A perfect summer's day, in the Grantchester meadows, the clink of glasses. _"To returning, and never getting a real job!'_" Baal, laughing in the corridors of the palace, her knuckles throbbing where she had hit him. _"You're about to become part of something much greater."_

She saw Atropos. God, she saw and felt and **was** Atropos; a part of her that would never go away, the awful memories that would always be there. _"You know why I'm different. Why I'm hok'taur. I'll get the answer, you'll see if I don't." __**Do you think you can read my memories as I can yours? How laughable. You cannot touch the mind of a god.**__ "I don't have to. I'll figure it out! I'll work out the answer myself." _And she had. She had. In the long dark hours, in the slow subconscious processing of her dreams, in the patience and perseverance of tests and experiments and theory, she had chased the answer down.

Watching her favourite film with Beth again; mellowed with beer and good company, but unable to shake the nagging intuition, unable to deny completely the awful dread at the back of her mind. _"It's only message is terror, and more terror." "The message you take isn't necessarily the one you're being given." _She figured it out. She figured it out and didn't even want to acknowledge it to herself. _**Where the answer lies Atropos lies also. **__No, _she rejected it automatically, shying away from that awful truth, _No no no!_

The most mundane of memories, the moment everything had irrevocably changed, only one of many moments. Standing in the hallway in her dressing gown on the phone, in the middle of the night. _"I've come up with an idea about how I was able to resist the Goa'uld, and I think it might prove useful if it's correct." _And everything changed, because she had decided to make it change.

Everything changed, and she was standing in her lab coat by the computer with an alien, the most mundane and profound of moments. _"It is clear that from the moment that you began to suspect what you were, it has only been your thought to help." __**Your kindness will kill you. **_ Still, she persisted.

The slow-dawning light of hope in Malek and Anise's faces, late that night, amidst the reassuring familiarity of the laboratory._ "I'm saying that the Goa'uld that infected me __wasn't__ a queen. It was our great mistake to assume that she was." _The Tok'ra Council, arguing around the table. _"You didn't ask. I'm offering." _Arguing with Malek in the lab again. _"The moment this knowledge was mine, I had to take the responsibility for it." _Malek, again, and Darin, and that first, impassioned kiss, defying the odds already so stacked against them. _"When you guessed what you were you came here, with your offer to the Tok'ra already in mind – you led with your heart. Will you not listen to it now?" _ She listened; to her poor, eternally frighted heart.

Rokarrin. Catching her breath as they hid amongst the rocks, staring at the fossils in the stone as the battle raged around her and knowing she'd remember it forever, but forever was not even an eyeblink in the space of the universe. _"Protect the hok'taur at all costs." _Delek, running; running away with the guard whose name she did not know, to save her._ "I will not abandon my host!" _Malek, clasping her hands against the dunes._ "If I fall, do not stop. Do not stop for anything." _Staff fire erupting all around them as he pushed her to the ground, and she knew, then, that this was the moment, and it wasn't long enough. Not for both of them. Her father, trying to understand what he couldn't possibly understand, what she never **wanted **him to understand._ "You wait til you're old. You don't know how fast the time goes." _And how slow, sometimes, she thought, but did not say. A hazed figure in the drifting sand: Malek, against all the odds still standing. Again Delek, propped against the rocks as Kyen's blood stained the sand and the uniform she had worn for less than a day. _"This – __all__ of this – is about survival. It's nothing more noble or profound than that. And we must make the best we can of it." _But survival wasn't living. It wasn't enough. And she knew it. She knew it, and she knew the Tok'ra felt it. She pitied them, and she had to help them.

Arguing again, with her mother, this time, before all that had happened. _"What could possibly be so important to them?" "A future." _Again Delek, but within her, this time, easing her nameless distress, that only he understood. _"I need more time and there's never enough of it." _And she had agreed. In spite of all that had gone before, she had agreed to the blending. _"I will guide you. Trust me." _She trusted Delek, like she trusted her own soul, like Delek **was **the better part of her own soul.

Slowly, she came back to herself, really back to herself, her whole restored self, and found Delek there also. She was reeling with it all. It was like a story….but nobody was a hero. Certainly not her.

_Did I really do all that? _

_All I have shown is true._

_I can't believe it. That person isn't me! I'm not that brave. I'm not any of those things._

_But you are kind. Kindness: the quiet virtue. The overlooked virtue. The virtue that begets all the others._

_Am I really like that?_

_Yes._

_I didn't realise, _she said, wonderingly. She felt a warm glow fill her.

_Eleanor, _Delek said, gently, _I know you're still very tired, and I know it's overwhelming, but there are a great many people here who are very anxious to see you. Will you not speak to them?_

_I – yes, of course. I will. I want to. But how on earth do I get back to the real world? I've been trapped in here so long. _Delek's rich, warm laughter filled her mind.

_My dear, if you wish to wake, you have only to think to open your eyes._

/

Blinking slowly as she opened her lights to the bright light of the infirmary, feeling the warm sheets against her skin, Eleanor became aware of the rush of voices all around her; happy, emotional voices. Hands were helping her to sit up against the pillows, and she fended them off, muzzily, glancing at their owner: Malek/Darin, sitting beside her, unwilling to let go. She knew them; she loved them. She managed only a weak smile, but it was enough, for his own face broke into a relieved, joyous one.

"Eleanor," he murmured, choked, and pressed a kiss to her face.

"I'm all right," she said, throat dry and closing up with emotion. She looked all about her: the bed was crowded around with her friends; Jacob/Selmak, Anise/Freya, the members of SG1, and – god – Beth standing at the end of the bed with tears streaming down her face. The door opened and General Hammond waved in more people; her family, looking haggard but hopeful.

_Delek, help, I'm going to embarrass myself, _she pleaded desperately, feeling her eyes threatening to spill over.

_Then embarrass yourself. It will do you good._

_You are such a sanctimonious – ! _she began, but it was no good.

"I – " she began, and trailed off. Her mother rushed to embrace her; Malek already had his arms about her, and suddenly, everyone was there and they weren't letting her go. Helplessly, she burst into floods of tears.


	26. Chapter 26

[Idiot here uploaded the wrong chapter last night for number 26, so if you read it then and are getting confused, this is the real one, and that was 27! Never upload when tired :P ]

* * *

**Chapter 26.**

It was only much later, after Frasier had finally ordered everyone out to let them rest some more, that Eleanor finally had a chance to talk with her symbiote again.

_Delek, my Delek…you found me._They were standing in the quad, on a frosty autumn day; Delek's projection, not hers this time. The sky above was blue and limitless, and chimes sounded in the distance.

_Of course I found you_. Vastly self-assured. Smug, even. She remembered that voice! She could weep for the memory of it! The young man in front of her smiled, a small, secretive smile like a shared confidence.

_I remember…_ she began, trying to organise her thoughts, but everything crumbled. _I lost, didn't I?_

_As you always knew you would. No human host has ever overcome a mature goa'uld_, Delek said, _But you have escaped one_.

_And lived to tell the tale_, she whispered, dryly.

_And lived to tell the tale_, Delek agreed.

_There's something I want to know, _Eleanor asked, after a time. _Why do you still appear to me as Kyen? _Another smile.

_Because you were never given the chance to choose me. Not properly; not free of the constraints of need and morality. But now you can. Eleanor, once you are recovered completely, I will be fully capable of leaving you without doing either of us any harm._

_You still want to go then. I know…you haven't fully re-blended with me. I have bits and pieces that I recall, but it's clear that you gave me back my own memories; not your own._

_You believe I wish to leave. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am projecting this image because I am not presuming that I may stay. I would not wish to leave you for anything. _He looked a little more sober then. _Except, that is, by your own request._ She was astonished.

_After what you did for me? How could I not let you?_

_Are you sure? _He urged her. _Don't be too hasty. You've done more than enough for us, and for me, and you've suffered more than anyone should. You can leave with a clear conscience, and go back to the life you desire for yourself. _Eleanor hesitated. _You can even, _added Delek, _Blame it all on me. Tell them I'm completely unbearable and it's all my fault because I won't accept a Tau'ri host._

_You __**are **__unbearable. Well, some of the time._

A wry smile.

_You can probably even keep Malek and Darin. _Eleanor smiled back.

_Oh, I'm not so sure about that. I can remember that conversation in the infirmary – well, half-remember it anyway. And – _she hesitated, then finally admitted the truth. _I don't want to be without you. I don't think I could cope with it. _Now that she confessed that much, the rest all started coming out in a rush, as all the emotion surged back. _Everything I went through…everything Atropos put me through. It's too much to deal with by myself. I need help. I need __**your **__help. Nobody else will ever understand it as deeply as you do._

_I will always help you, _he reassured her, _But you will not always__need my help. You underestimate yourself, as usual. _Eleanor shook her head.

_Perhaps, but it's not just that. It's just – _she struggled to explain it, and he waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. _I told my mother it was like fairytale, _she said at last, _When I got back. Like something that wasn't real and couldn't be integrated back into the reality I had always known, and would always exist entirely separate from it. Well, I was right, but I got it the wrong way round. It's me who can't go back, me who can't return to that reality, because it's that reality that feels like a fairytale now, and this one that is all too real to me. I've changed too much. I can never go home. My home now is with you, and the Tok'ra._

He took her hands again, his expression sombre once more.

_Eleanor, think very carefully. It is important you understand fully what you are committing to. Consider what the future holds for you if you stay with me. _His voice was so intent, so serious in her mind, that she **did **stop then. Stop and really think. A glimmer of what he was driving at began to sink in to her. She looked around, really looked; at this part-recollection, part-construction of her old college grounds.

_This place…why this place? _She looked sharply at him, then, and said, almost wonderingly, _You're afraid too._

_Of course I'm afraid. This university you're so fond of is younger than I am and it is considered ancient on your world. To you, it epitomises both the neverending pursuit of knowledge, but also a balanced paradox: continuity, and change. This quad has stood like this for centuries, but the humans who passed through it were once only privileged white males with quill pens in their hands. Now they clasp computers and are from every part of your society, but they still have the same aims._

_This is what the Tok'ra must do. We have been essentially the same for over two thousand years but now we will change. We will change in ways we cannot even imagine. And I am afraid. _The magnitude of what he was talking about, the ramifications, slowly started to become apparent to her.

_I never thought of what would happen afterwards. I never considered what might yet be. And now…I think you are wise, to be afraid. _His gaze was as ageless as ever.

_Yes. I is why I want you with me. You have lived with change your entire life. Your whole society has; your world. You embrace it. I need your help. _She took a deep breath, aware that this was probably the only time he was ever going to admit it.

_I am afraid too. Not just of the past, but of the future. When I imagined what would happen…I never got any further than this. Not so as I actually believed it. They never tell you sacrifice sometimes means living your life for someone else, instead of giving it._

_No, they don't. _She smiled ruefully.

_We are going to have some terrific fights you know._

_I look forward to it. Not to mention teaching you the value of stability and prudence, amongst the many other things you most sorely lack. So, will you have me, my infuriating, stubborn, chaotic, wilful, foolhardy Tau'ri?_

_When you put it like that…how can I say no? _His smile turned to one of wicked delight.

_Then when you told Malek__ you should ask for the most arrogant, unruly, argumentative bastard of a symbiote the Tok'ra have, you really meant it then? _Eleanor grinned back.

_Apparently so. _His features morphed and changed into the person she saw in the mirror, and suddenly, she was being hugged by her own self, and it really wasn't too bad.

Then her mind opened, and Delek's opened to her, and, not for the first time, she **felt **how alien she was, how very human she herself was. Then all that memory and knowledge opened up before her like an endless forest. She absorbed it all, a world-encircling sea of trees; every leaf a memory, every branch a fact; sweet saplings of remembrance, gnarled trunks of knowledge, and all her thoughts, her very being, made only a meadow of wildflowers in some secret glade. How different; how familiar.

_I have learnt from my hosts. _And, suddenly, she understood what Delek really meant, and what she intended.

/

Malek slowly came round to an insisting tugging at his arm, and blinked blearily at Dr Frasier, discovering that he'd fallen asleep slumped on Eleanor's bed again and had cricked his neck abominably.

_That poor woman must be sick of the sight of us, _Darin remarked.

"She's waking up again," Frasier told him, and suddenly they were both very alert.

"Maldaruhh?" said Eleanor, muzzily.

"I am not familiar with that System Lord," Malek replied, drolly, then suddenly found himself choked with emotion.

"Eleanor?" Darin asked, surprised to find himself the self-possessed one for a change.

"Darin," she breathed, rubbing her eyes and trying to sit up. They hastened to help her. "Are you all right?" she asked, suddenly concerned at the tears streaming down his face, and he almost had to laugh.

"Are **we **all right?" He pressed her hand to his lips, nodding slowly. "We will be all right now, if you are." She smiled; it was weak, but warm.

"I'm fine. A little tired." She looked sheepishly at him. "I must admit…I kind of wasn't expecting to be here. It's a bit…it's all a bit much to take in. Delek saved me, you know."

"I know. She's going to be unbearable." Eleanor laughed then, presumably in response to some heated internal comment. Malek finally pulled himself together enough to speak.

"Eleanor," he asked, as gently as he could, "What happened?" She looked him steadily in the eyes.

"A nightmare," she said at last.

"And?"

"And then I woke up."

"That's it?"

"That is more than enough. Believe me. Sometimes the greatest hope we have is what is ordinarily our greatest fear: that everything must come to an end. But no. That's far from it. That's the message I choose to take. For now. I'm afraid, I've only just started to deal with all this. Anything more, will simply take time." He leaned over and hugged her close.

"We understand, and we will always be here, for when you are ready."

"I know." He drew back again, and deliberately tried to lighten the tone.

"How is Delek finding being a queen?" Eleanor laughed, but he could tell she was getting tired again already.

"Oh, I expect the complaints to start soon enough, but she's in too good a mood at the moment." He quirked an eyebrow.

"I take it you two have decided you're made for each other after all."

"Uh-huh," stifling a yawn.

"Go back to sleep," he said, softly, although they both wanted nothing more than to talk and be with her a little longer.

"Hmm, think I will….you should go get some sleep too. You look awful."

"Thanks," dryly. Her eyelids started to flutter closed again. "I can hear her happiness in her head," she murmured, drowsily. "It's like listening to my soul singing to itself." Then she did fall asleep again, a smile upon her face.


	27. Chapter 27

[As mentioned earlier, I uploaded this chapter before 26 by mistake, so make sure you've read that corrected 26 first! This one is a little lighter and more humorous (I hope!). I thought a lighter tone was needed after the last few ones. And thank you Roeskva for asking if Malek and Delek were going to meet Eleanor's family; I hadn't initially thought about that, but I liked the idea so I've written in a short scene.]

* * *

**Chapter 27**

Darin/Malek returned to the infirmary the next morning, after a much-needed sleep in an actual bed, only to find Eleanor's parents and two brothers clustered around her already. They suppressed a twinge of disappointment; it would be churlish to complain that they were not getting any time to spend with her themselves, but yesterday her family had been there, and her friend Beth…and then much later on, when they came to check on her whilst she was sleeping, they had found her in grave discussion with Selmak about something. He suspected that "something" may have been Selmak's previous experience of a host who had formerly been taken over by a goa'uld, or perhaps his knowledge of Atropos, and had left them to it. Eleanor doubtless needed all the help and comfort she could get – but they felt that disappointment nonetheless.

_I just really wish things would go back to normal – well, as 'normal' as it gets around here, anyway, _Darin voiced their thoughts out loud. Eleanor's younger brother Matt beckoned them over cheerfully, and it was only then that Malek realised he had stopped in the doorway.

_I agree. Here, you take over and talk to them. I'm not sure they would wish to talk to me just yet._

_No, _Darin disagreed, _I spoke to them yesterday and they were all perfectly polite._

_And distant._

_We've had this discussion before about my own family. They have to accept you as well as me, and that's final. Besides, they're putting up with Delek, aren't they? _Malek was amused.

_True, _he conceded, _Although they were clearly perturbed by her presence. Nevertheless, they know Delek saved Eleanor's life: they will 'put up' with a lot, for that, I suspect. _Despite his words, he stepped forward cautiously, smiling and trying to look friendly.

"It's Malek, isn't it?" Eleanor's mother, Grace, asked.

"Yes," he replied, bowing his head a little, "It is an honour to meet you all."

_Too formal, _Darin told him.

"Please, call me Grace," Eleanor's mother replied warmly, rising and taking his hand.

"David," added her father, offering his hand too, as did her brothers. His worry subsided a little.

"Eleanor's told us lots about you," Grace added.

"Er…" said Malek, not sure whether that was a good thing or not.

"Oh sit down and stop looking so worried!" Grace scolded.

"Yeh we've had a while to get our heads around this whole alien thing by now," added Arthur, with a chuckle.

"Trust Ellie," piped up Matt, "She never could resist those two for the price of one offers!"

"Matt!" protested Eleanor, poking him in the arm. Darin thought that was funny; he was strongly reminded of the teasing affection between himself and his own siblings.

_This is normal behaviour? _Malek queried, _You humans can be so strange sometimes. _Darin thought that was even funnier, and Malek gave it up as a lost cause.

"We were just discussing what was going to happen next," David added. "I mean, after what happened before, on that planet, it doesn't seem safe for Eleanor, and, er, er, Delek, to go back to any Tok'ra base anytime soon. Not with all those goa'uld out there!"

"It is probably not," Malek agreed, slightly relieved to be talking about something he was more familiar with, "At least not for now. The Tok'ra High Council decided some time ago that it would be best if they were to stay here for the time being, and I see no reason why that would have changed. Nevertheless, the war against the goa'uld is, I believe, entering a climactic phase; the situation may be very different in a short while, and hopefully for the better."

"We were just wondering if we'd be able to come visit, you know, when you go off-world," said Arthur, directing his query at Eleanor.

"Of course you will," she assured them.

"Hey I can teach you cricket!" Matt enthused, suddenly.

"What is cricket?" Malek wanted to know. Matt grinned.

"It's an English game," Eleanor told him, making a face, "That can last for five days and still end in a draw."

"The High Council, at least, will love it," Delek said, wryly. Malek was surprised she spoke up so freely in front of Eleanor's family, without warning.

_One;__ she knows them essentially as well as Eleanor does, and two; this is Delek's self-confidence we're talking about here._

_Good point._

"I will gladly try cricket," Malek said solemnly, fidgetting a bit on the seat. "And I assure you that you will be able to visit as often as is possible."

_Will you relax! _

"Oh don't worry," David said, and winked at him, "Frankly I'm just happy to finally get her off my hands."

"Dad!" Eleanor objected.

"Is it true you're like 800 years old?" That was Matt.

"Er, yes, but of course we can live for many centuries and do not rapidly age so – "

"Cool!"

"I always said you needed an older man," said Grace.

"Mum! Honestly, you're worse than Dad sometimes."

"And," Malek continued, valiantly persevering, "I – that is, we – wish to reassure you that we will take the greatest of care of your daughter and of course treat her with the utmost respect." To his consternation, Eleanor groaned and put her hand over her eyes at that.

_What did I say wrong? It's true! They surely cannot disapprove of such a sentiment!_

_Oh, give me control, _Darin demanded.

"You must excuse Malek's seriousness," he said, with a winning smile that was doubtless a lot more convincing than Malek's, "He's just a little nervous about meeting you all."

"Don't be, we're just teasing you, son," said David.

_Son? Does this mean that they__ have accepted me after all? _Malek was increasingly bewildered. Grace leaned over and patted his hand.

"Well I think you're very sweet," she said firmly. "Isn't he sweet?"

"Yes, very," Eleanor agreed, grinning.

_Sweet? I am not sweet! _Malek objected, crossly.

_Sweet is good, and I thought you __**didn't **__mind that, _Darin retorted, laughing, and echoed out loud, "Yes, very."

"Can you do the eye flash thing?" asked Matt. "That is so cool."

"Matt!" yelled everyone.

/

Sam and Daniel were just leaving from visiting Eleanor and Delek in the infirmary when they bumped into Jack coming the other way. He was whistling loudly to himself, a tune that sounded suspiciously like 'Puff the Magic Dragon'. When he saw them, he stopped and looked embarrassed, and appeared to be furtively trying to hide a tray behind his back.

"Hi Jack," Daniel greeted him, a suspicious tone to his voice, "What have got there?" Jack gave up trying to hide the tray.

"Oh, you know, just a little snack." Sam raised her eyebrows.

"Death by chocolate cake **and** blue jello?"

"I missed dinner," he said, defensively.

"Right." Daniel was clearly as unconvinced as Sam was.

"It's for Eleanor," he mumbled, "She's been in there like a week now and you know how strict the doc is about the diet. I mean, it's harsh. I'm just demonstrating a little sympathy here."

"That's nice," Sam said brightly, still staring at the tray like it was a sum that just didn't add up, then added a hasty "Sir," in response to his glare.

"Well, anyway…" he muttered, sneaking past them and creeping up to the infirmary, keeping a wary eye out for Janet.

"Two desserts?" Sam repeated, when he was out of earshot. "I mean, **two**?"

"Eleanor does like chocolate cake," said Daniel, all sweet innocence.

"Yes, but she **hates **blue jello," Sam pointed out to Daniel, "He knows that, right?"

"Delek, on the other hand, **loves **blue jello," Daniel said, still playing the innocent.

"Yes but – seriously? Is he feeling all right do you think?"

"Oh, I think he's feeling just fine. I think that Tok'ra in there just did something that Jack finally understood." The light suddenly dawned in Sam's eyes.

"Leave no one behind."

"Exactly." They glanced back at the infirmary. Jack had finally decided the coast was clear because he knocked on the door and charged happily in with a loud,

"Hey Queenie! I got you your favourite!" Sam looked at Daniel, and, wordlessly, they agreed to beat a hasty retreat. The universe was weird enough.

Delek noticeably brightened when Jack came into the room, blue jello held aloft triumphantly.

_Queenie? _questioned Eleanor, snickering to herself a little.

_Who cares. He brought me blue jello!_

_God, the way to your heart really is through your stomach isn't it? Oooh, chocolate cake._

"Colonel," Delek said out loud, more seriously, hand on heart, "You have saved my life." Jack grinned.

"Yeh well, just don't tell Janet." Just then, the door opened, and Jack nearly dived through the window, but it turned out to be Malek/Darin.

"Where is our dessert?" asked Darin, looking disappointed.

"Oh hi Dal, Mal – refectory's that way." Jack jerked a finger. Delek was grinning over 'Mal' and 'Dal'. Darin looked rather vexed, although they both suspected that was mostly Malek, who **hated **it when Jack called him Mal, but he left again without a word. Jack pulled up a chair and tucked into his own bag of peanuts.

"How you doing anyway? What's it like, you know – " Jack waved his hands vaguely in the air, "Being, a, uh, lady symbiote." Delek shot him a withering look that probably would have been accompanied by a suitably acerbic comment, had this not endangered the future supplies of blue jello.

"Fine," she said shortly. Jack clearly didn't believe this. "Everybody is going to expect larvae now," Delek complained, poking at the jello slightly moodily. "And whilst I know that the metamorphosis worked successfully – well, let's just say that this new body did not come with an instruction manual. I have **ovaries** – sixteen of them!"

"Ack!" Jack cut in, holding up a hand, "Don't need to hear about the…bits. Thank you. Anyway, can't you remember all that stuff from Egeria?"

"Not very well. It all just sort of came naturally to her. She didn't really give it much conscious thought."

"Well I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jack replied breezily, then added hastily, "And for god's sake, don't **tell me **about it." Delek raised an eyebrow, in time with her spoon.

"Of course I will figure it out."

"And you know, while I'm on the subject, here's an idea: how about having lots of baby queens, and that way you'll never be in this whole **going extinct **and people nearly dying through freaky metamorphosis situation. Thing. Whatever."

"I intend to," Delek answered. She was demolishing the jello in short order. "But then, of course, we will have to find more hosts," she added, provocatively.

"Yeh, well, they say there's one born every minute," Jack muttered to himself.

"Pardon?"

"I said I'm sure Mal will be back in a minute. Although there was a bit of a queue." He shuffled a little awkwardly. "Things are going to change, you know," he added, and Delek gave him a sharp look. "I mean, the System Lords are on their way down. It's only a matter of time." Delek relaxed a little again then.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Well, maybe things will be different then." Delek made no further reply but chased the last bits of jello onto the spoon and put it down with a contented sigh. Her head dipped and then Eleanor grabbed the spoon.

"Ah, death by chocolate!" she exclaimed, happily. Jack looked amused. "I **am **eating for two, you know," she added, shamelessly, and shoved a big spoonful in.

"Oh for crying out loud," Jack said, good-naturedly.


	28. Chapter 28

[A/N Thank you again for the reviews; I'm glad Jack's little turnaround seemed believable and amusing :)]

* * *

**Chapter 28**

Strange, how things could change so fast. A few months ago, everything had been so dark; Anubis was about to destroy all life in the galaxy, the Tok'ra were heading towards extinction even without his help, and now…now the System Lords were at last vanquished, and the Tok'ra had only the future to look forward to. After the fall of Rokarrin, most of the Tok'ra had dispersed to new, smaller bases; some had remained at the alpha site, and some at the SGC, to safeguard their new queen. It had been agreed, with surprisingly little rancour on the part of the High Council, that Eleanor/Delek should still remain at the SGC whilst things had been hotting up with Anubis and Baal. This had given them time to fully recuperate, and there had been time too, to repair relations with the Tau'ri and the Free Jaffa.

And now…everything had changed. The lines of the Tok'ra/Tau'ri and Jaffa alliance, the details of their relationship with each other, would change again, and hopefully only for the good. The scattered Tok'ra agents were at last all coming home permanently – and realising that they needed somewhere to actually call 'home'. So it was that the Tok'ra were now about to embark on a momentous occasion: settling their first permanent homeworld since their very inception. It was a surprisingly radical and swift step forward for the secretive, traditional Tok'ra, but lately everyone had been filled with a spirit of hope and enthusiasm, and it had spurred some bold and creative gestures from them. Delek knew, of course, that there would be a wake-up from this honeymoon period; Selmak knew it too, and those two in particular had had earnest discussion about a number of serious matters lately.

Delek and Selmak's antagonism had been something present from Delek's original election to the High Council. She had risen rapidly through the Tok'ra ranks; a talented strategist who, after being a very successful base commander, became the youngest ever symbiote to be elected to the High Council. But the burden of command there, and the nature of the long-term strategy required, was very different. They had elected Delek because they had hoped for someone bold and fresh, and initially, this is what they got. But when the successes came always with casualties, and when the alliance with the Tau'ri, which had seemed so innovative and full of promise, brought them so much grief and so much dangerous destabilisation of the balance of power, Delek, feeling the burden of her position keenly, had become ever more cautious and withdrawn. Selmak, by contrast, reinvigorated by Jacob, had become the bold one with the radical ideas and was, of course, the one who most heartily supported the alliance. Inevitably, they had clashed. Now, ironically, they both shared a common bond, a common perspective gained through their both having Tau'ri hosts. And they were both wise enough to know of the challenges that lay ahead for the Tok'ra.

So it was that an historic meeting laid the foundations for the future: the Tau'ri, the Tok'ra and the Free Jaffa met together at the SGC again, this time to reforge an alliance, not to break one. Bra'tac and Arzec were present representing the Free Jaffa; a sensible pair of heads, which was a relief. For the Tok'ra, Selmak, Delek, Per'sus and Garshaw all attended, representing most of the High Council, and Malek and Anise were also there. They had offers to put on the table that perhaps were not so widely known about.

"Firstly," began Bra'tac, once the formal introductions were over, "We wish to offer congratulations to the Tok'ra on the successful recovery of their new queen and her host. These are indeed glad tidings."

"The Tok'ra thank you," Per'sus replied, formally.

"And we will not forget that this success is owed in part to the Jaffa, including yourselves, who aided in our rescue," Delek added, graciously, with only a little prodding from Eleanor. Bra'tac and Arzec both inclined their heads, then glanced at each other.

"There is some talk amongst the Jaffa about whether you wish the Jaffa to carry your young," said Arzec, frankly. The Tok'ra exchanged glances.

"We would not expect any Jaffa to carry a larval Tok'ra," Garshaw answered, "We realise that after centuries of goa'uld oppression, the idea may be anathema to you."

"There are some who are considering it," said Arzec, relaxing slightly. "Whilst it is true that we wish for no reminder of our former dependence on the Goa'uld, now that we have the tretonin, it would be a free choice, and that is different."

"A perspective the Tok'ra are keenly appreciative of," said Selmak, with a wry smile.

"Moreover," continued Arzec, "We know that we have the Tok'ra to thank for the existence of tretonin in the first place, and that this was bought through the sacrifice of Egeria. It seems fitting that we…offer something back."

"It is a most generous offer," said Selmak, "And, for now, we would certainly be inclined to accept it, because it is true that it is difficult for a mature symbiote to take a human host if it has not spent at least some of its larval life within a Jaffa."

"This is, however, something we would look to change," said Freya, earnestly. "The Goa'uld engineered the Jaffa artificially to support this system, and were themselves altered both intentionally and not so intentionally when it developed. We believe that it would be possible to develop a non-host-based incubation system for the larvae that would assist with their adult implantation, using a technological approach, and even perhaps deliberately genetically engineering ourselves. However, this is as yet somewhat speculative." She glanced at Malek.

"There is further news in that regard," he said, taking his cue, and leaning forward on the table, fingers steepled, "You are aware that I have been working on an improved version of the tretonin formula. I can now report that preliminary results are most promising: it should give a performance almost equal to that of a larval symbiote, whereas before, as you know, it was not a complete substitute."

"This is good news," Bra'tac said, warmly, "And my people will be very glad to hear it."

"In the future, we hope also to make it possible for the Jaffa to be dependent on neither tretonin nor larval symbiotes," Malek added, "Although again, this is purely speculative, Eleanor and I intend to work upon the problem."

"You would remove our need for you altogether?" Arzec asked, surprised.

"Say rather, we would restore your full freedom of choice," said Selmak, "We have fought the Goa'uld, and, whilst it is not our personal responsibility to undo all their evil, even if we could, we would restore whatever can be restored, which includes your full independence, as surely as human independence from the Goa'uld." Bra'tac bowed his head respectfully.

"Then I believe you will truly fulfill Egeria's legacy," he said, solemnly.

"And your allies will not forget the good works you have done," added Arzec. "I believe that, whilst you need them, you will get more volunteers for larval hosts when we have no need of either them or the tretonin, than when we needed either."

"You will, in fact, have gained friends," said Teal'c, smiling.

"Speaking of gaining friends, George," said Jacob, "We'd like to request some help from the SGC on that front."

"Regarding hosts?" asked Jack, although not with the barbed tone he had formerly used whenever discussing that matter with the Tok'ra.

"Ultimately, later, that will be an issue," Jacob agreed, "But for now what we really need is for you to essentially do a little PR for us. And some clean-up."

"Come again?" asked Hammond.

"There are literally thousands of worlds out there – human worlds – that have known nothing but Goa'uld domination since their very beginning," said Selmak, "Now, for the first time, they find themselves free, and with no idea what to do with that freedom. We are facing a galactic scale societal collapse and it is urgent that we mitigate as much of the damage as possible."

"How bad are we talking here?" asked Hammond, concerned. Delek's patience with the usual lack of Tau'ri long-term planning frayed slightly at that.

"Did it not occur to you that if the System Lords essentially were vanquished in a matter of scant years, that their human slaves would fall with them? The goa'uld created a rigidly hierarchical society that held in place for millennia. There are hundreds of millions on worlds that are falling into civil disorder, and millions in immediate danger of starvation and disease. This has been true, to a lesser extent, every time the Tau'ri have killed a System Lord or altered the balance of power with no thought for the people at the bottom of the pile. You have not seen the human cost of your actions, but we have. Had the overthrow of the Goa'uld been slower and less violent, the situation would not be nearly so bad."

"Now hang on a minute, don't you go putting that on us!" protested Jack, back on defensive mode, "If those people are in trouble, it's nobody's fault but the Goa'uld, who, **may I remind you, **were the ones who ground them down in the first place!"

"Nobody's trying to point fingers and accuse, Jack," said Jacob, holding up his hands placatingly, "At the end of the day, we couldn't predict how things would turn out and we absolutely had to take the chance to bring them down when we could. But the fact remains that there are a lot of people in trouble out there right now, and I think you'll agree that we have to do what we can to help them. It's not our mess – not directly, anyway – but if we are to build this nice galactic society we're all sitting round this table talking about, I think a pretty damn good place to start is with a little charity to our neighbours, don't you agree?"

"But what we can do?" asked General Hammond, "Our resources are limited."

"As are all of ours, but with a little cooperation, we can go a long way," said Per'sus. "There are some obvious things that can make an immediate difference. For example, human slaves on mining planets that are not conducive to agriculture are usually dependent on food imports from other planets, most of which are now no longer happening. We would suggest organising full-scale evacuations and resettlement of these human populations before they all starve, for a beginning. Now that the Tau'ri and the Jaffa have their own ships, this would also be of great assistance."

"In addition," added Garshaw, "We can think about setting up supply networks through the stargate system so people can trade for themselves."

"A lot of these people will rediscover their own ways of making society work," said Selmak, "But in many cases a little help and advice would not go amiss. The Tok'ra are by no means going to go around telling them what to do, but we can supply advisors and teachers in all areas from law to medicine, from trade to agriculture, and I'm sure the SGC can do something similar."

"But you can't just turn up offering free help because they're all gonna think you're goa'uld," said Jack, shrewdly.

"Exactly," agreed Jacob, "Which is where the PR comes in. The Tok'ra have operated in secrecy for centuries. In the few cases where people have even heard of us, we're just a legend. We need you to go ahead of us and tell people who we are, what we stand for, and what we've done to help them already."

"And when you help them some more, they'll be far more willing to help you back. Say, when you need hosts in the future," said Jack.

"Like I said Jack," said Jacob, with a grin, "Making friends."

"Or, in fact," observed Daniel, "Like symbiosis on a large-scale. Both partners benefit." Jacob nodded his head in agreement.

"The Tok'ra have no intention of spawning themselves out of hosts," Delek added, looking faintly appalled at the idea, "I for one have other things to do with my time, after all." That won a low murmur of laughter, "But there is no denying that we would wish to expand our numbers, at least back to what they originally were, and we will, as you say, need to make friends to do that."

"Well I say it's a good idea and everybody stands to benefit," Hammond decided.

"As do we," agreed Bra'tac.

"We should see about trying to get some help from some of the other races too," offered Daniel, "Even those who wouldn't usually get involved, like the Nox, could probably persuaded to lend some sort of humanitarian assistance."

"It's worth a try," said Hammond, "We can work out the details later. Is there any other business?"

"As you know, the Tok'ra will be leaving for our new homeworld in a few days," said Per'sus, "We will supply you all with the address, of course. We are grateful to the Tau'ri for providing a home for us when we had none."

"Need a hand moving?" asked Jack. Per'sus smiled.

"I think we have it all well in hand. Once the tunnels are established, we will of course welcome visitors."

"Just a thought," said Sam, "But do you really need tunnels anymore?" The Tok'ra looked surprised, clearly glancing at each other.

"Indeed," said Teal'c, "There is surely no need to remain living underground now that there is no longer a requirement for secrecy." The Tok'ra still looked like they were trying to get their heads round the concept.

"Of course, if you really **love **tunnels," said Jack, "Then don't let us stop you."

"I have to say," pondered Selmak, "That after two thousand years of living in tunnels, they are…wearing a little thin."

"Yeh, how about, I don't know, a nice retirement condo or something?" suggested Jack, earning himself a look from both Selmak and Sam.

"I was thinking more on the lines of a fairytale castle," quipped Selmak.

"With a swimming pool," added Garshaw.

"And a decent library," Per'sus said, wistfully.

"And a cinema," said Delek.

"Well, how about we let you surprise us when we come to visit?" suggested Hammond, gently trying to steer the topic back on course, though not without a quickly suppressed smile of his own. "Meanwhile, folks, we have a fresh new Treaty to sign."

"And don't make me write it out again this time," warned Daniel, as he handed round the proofs.

/

The Treaty was signed, their belongings were packed, their farewells made, and in what felt like no time at all, Eleanor was stood in the gateroom waiting to depart for their new home, feeling both hopeful and nervous. It seemed as though half the SGC was there to bid her goodbye and good luck, and she had an honour guard of centurions, which she found hideously embarrassing, but Delek was enjoying the attention, so she didn't protest too much.

Malek/Darin hurried in just as the wormhole swooshed open, a little late.

"Where did you get to?" Eleanor asked, curious.

"Colonel O'Neill saw fit to dispense some paternal advice," Malek said, a very puzzled expression on his face, "Something about making sure to treat you like a princess now you were a queen." Eleanor burst out laughing.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand, "Let's go to our new home."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

_One, two, three…_Delek was busy counting, and singing happily to herself as she did it.

'_One, two, three four five, once I caught a fish alive! Six seven eight nine ten, then I let it go again! Why did you let it go, because it bit my finger so. Which little finger did it bite? This little finger on my right! Oh – Eleanor, what comes next? _Eleanor was amused.

_There is no next. The rhyme only goes up to ten. So you can count it on your fingers._

_Hmph! Stupid humanoid prejudices. Oh well._

_Well, how many have you got? Eggs, that is, not fingers._

_Ninety-six! _Delek was positively preening, _Ninety-six perfect little eggs, if I do say so myself._

_Wow, that's a lot. This is going to be interesting._

_One, two, three….you know, we should make up a new rhyme._

_Er, no thanks, that'll take forever._

…_Four, five, six…_

_Look, I don't mean to be rude, but you've done this three times already and it's been ninety-six each time. Are you going to count __**all day?**_

_I'm just checking._

_Delek, they're not going to go anywhere._

_I am perfectly well aware of that, _she retorted, with massive hauteur, _I'm just…checking._

_I'm sure everything will be fine, _Eleanor said soothingly.

_Now you're sounding just like the damn healers! Honestly. _Eleanor tried not to be too amused, because then Delek would get more annoyed, but, sometimes, it was just too funny. She then received the distinct impression that Delek had decided that her childish amusement was beneath her.

They were relaxing in their new quarters on the Tok'ra homeworld. It was still amazing to think of it. She wandered over to the window and looked out, revelling in the view.

_You have to admit, _Eleanor commented, _Crystal architecture is a lot more beautiful above ground._

_True, _said Delek, _Although I am glad that the Council was in agreement that we should keep an underground complex of tunnels too, and keep the pools down there for the babies, at least for now. I think it's safest._

_We'll have to look into finding new places for our nurseries too, _Eleanor agreed, _Not just here. There's so much to do._

_Yes, there is, _Delek agreed distractedly. Eleanor was lost in her own contemplations a while longer. It would be much nicer to have surface pools for the babies, of course, so long as they were properly monitored. Not only would it be more pleasant for them, but it would be more open, less secretive. Yes, that was a good point, there was the image they presented to consider too. If they wanted people to think about becoming hosts, then they needed to be frank and open about themselves so that people would see that they had nothing sinister to hide. That reminded her, they really needed to talk to their Tau'ri allies about –

_One, two, three four five…_Delek began again, and she resisted the temptation to hit the back of her own head, in favour of thinking furiously. An idea struck her.

_It's been a while since lunch, _she commented._ Why don't we see if we can go rustle up a snack?_

_Ooh, good idea, I'm starving! _Eleanor smiled to herself.

_I thought you might be._

/

Eleanor woke up; she woke up, and the funny thing was, it was the middle of the night. She sat bolt upright, in fact, wide awake and wondering why.

_Delek? _She questioned, _Getting a bit of a sense of déjà vu here hey? _But her symbiote remained silent, fast asleep. Typical. Beside her, however, Malek stirred, then woke too.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Er, I think so," she replied, looking puzzled, more than anything else.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"No…no, I haven't one of those in a while, and besides Delek always knows. She's still asleep. I feel…odd."

"Define odd." Eleanor's eyes suddenly widened in understanding, and she flung the bedcovers aside.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you know, just a sudden, overpowering urge to go to water that I'm pretty sure is not actually coming from me." She was going to fling her robe on, then decided there wasn't time, and bolted out the door stark naked, aware of a confused Malek chasing after her.

_Delek, you dozy idiot, __**wake up!**_

_Uh….what? That was a little uncalled-for, I must say, and – hey! Where did my embryos go?_

_Where the hell do you think they went! They've got ambitions to be larvae! _

_Oh – oops. Well kindly get your arse into gear and run faster._

_Didn't you __**notice?**_

Eleanor was fully aware that several Tok'ra, drawn by the commotion, were coming out of their sleeping chambers wondering what was going on, to discover their naked queen pelting down the corridors, having an argument out loud with herself.

"I don't believe this, queen I'm so clever and wise and a gazillion years old I didn't even notice my own eggs hatching!" Delek took over to retort.

"What about you, Dr genius biologist I'm so smart and observant I couldn't even predict the spawning event going on in my own abdomen!"

"Oh so it's all my fault now!"

"Yes!"

"You're unbelievable! It's all your fault! You're the one who didn't even wake up!"

"I don't see you being aware of your own ovaries either! And you're not running fast enough! You've had these legs for over three decades and you still can't use them efficiently!"

They hurtled round the corner to the pools at breakneck speed. A gaggle of excited Tok'ra were clustered by the entrance.

"What, nobody's seen a naked lady before?" demanded Eleanor, embarrassed and irate.

"Is it happening?" one foolhardy soul dared to ask. Delek took over again, eyes blazing.

"Anybody who doesn't clear the hell out of this area in two seconds is going to be larvae food!" They got the message and hastily cleared the area and Delek charged through into the pools. Malek jogged up breathlessly a few seconds later, having had the sense to throw a pair of trousers on.

"Do you need any assistance?" he inquired, anxiously, and excited too.

"IF YOU DARE COME IN HERE I WILL TEAR YOUR VERTEBRAE OUT ONE BY ONE! BOTH OF YOU! This is all your fault!"

_That's a No, I think, _suggested Darin, amused, as Malek abruptly turned into a bundle of nerves. Jacob/Selmak jogged up behind him, a mad grin on his face.

"I hope you were not smiling at the view," Malek accused, eyes narrowing. Selmak just raised his eyebrows in a 'Who me?' expression of innocence.

"Is it happening then?" he asked, "Can we go in?"

"That depends on how much you value your vertebral column."

"Ah." Jacob patted them on the shoulder in commiseration. "Cheer up sunshine, I'm sure they'll forgive you in a week or so."

"Technically it's not even my fault!" Malek retorted, pricked. Jacob just grinned some more.

"If you take my advice, just agree with everything the ladies say, got it?" Malek glowered. Now **Jacob** was dispensing paternal advice! Darin was too busy wondering if, **technically**_, _that meant it was **his **fault.

_Yes, _Malek accused, curtly.

"Malek!" yelled Eleanor suddenly, and he rattled to attention, "Why don't you actually make yourself useful and get me some clothes and a towel, or do you want everybody to see me naked?"

"They already did," he replied without thinking, bewildered.

_Malek no! Our vertebrae! _Darin protested. They looked desperately at Jacob, who burst out laughing, and then ran hastily back to their rooms and got the requested items. They sidled hesitantly up the entrance to the pools. Jacob/Selmak were loitering a prudent distance away.

_You do it! _Malek begged Darin, _They're less mad at you!_

_They are not! Oh, all right. Honestly._

"Er…we got you your things," he began, holding out the towel, which was snatched hastily away from him. He could hear a lot of grumbling and complaining and splashing coming from the pool, and also a faint, high-pitched squealing.

_Babies? _Malek asked hopefully. He was fairly bouncing up and down with impatience.

_Will you stop wriggling back there! How old __**are**__ you anyway?_

_Sorry._

Eleanor/Delek finally emerged from the pools, a slightly dazed expression on her face.

"**Well?" **Malek and Darin demanded at the same time.

"That," said Delek, looking slightly traumatised, "Was the most undignified, disgusting and frankly ridiculous process I have ever had to go through. Whoever said birth was beautiful ought to," – she paused, and waved a hand vaguely, " – have something ripped out of them and see if they like it." Eleanor took over again.

"That," she said, grinning, "Was the most fascinating, amazing thing ever! And – " her attention focussed clearly inward, "What do you mean I can't look at one under the microscope? I'll put it back!"

"Can we go in?" pleaded Malek. They appeared to notice him for the first time.

"What? Oh yes, I suppose so." Eleanor waved them in, and all the Tok'ra that had been hanging back at a safe distance eagerly followed.

"Don't poke them! Or I'll rip your fingers off!" Delek warned.

_Will you stop threatening to rip bits off people! Or out of them._

"Er, sorry," she said out loud, "Delek's a little…hormonal, right now."

_I am not! I'll have you know __**my**__ brain does not suffer from emotional disturbances caused my mere chemical imbalances._

_Delek._

_What? _She snapped.

_We've got babies. _Delek instantly mellowed into a happy glow.

_Yes, we do. Ninety-six and on my first go too! _Delek said, proudly. They walked back into the pool room, watching the Tok'ra stare in awe at the little larvae happily frolicking in the water, quite a few of them, perhaps unwisely ignoring Delek's warning, sticking their fingers in and watching the tiny forms be drawn to them. Hushed voices were rising in joy; laughter and tears alike were filling the room.

_Well, hopefully they'll forget about the naked bit then, _Eleanor remarked, ruefully, _Which, by the way, was all your fault. _For once, Delek didn't dispute that, although Eleanor had the very clear impression she thought nudity taboos were a ridiculous Tau'ri hang-up. They watched as Malek cupped a little one in his hands, an expression of delighted awe upon his face.

_It was worth it, wasn't it? _Eleanor said, thoughtfully, remembering a long-ago dream amidst a slew of nightmares, and realising that, after all, it was true. Sometimes, there was more to the meaning than just waking up and it all being over. Sometimes, the dawn revealed a whole new world. Delek uncharacteristically made no reply, but her presence filled her mind with a warm, knowing glow, understanding her as no one else quite could.

Malek released the baby back into the water after a moment. Slowly, and with great dignity, he began to weep.

"I've never seen you cry before," said Eleanor, taking his hands, "Not for happiness."

"Eleanor, everything will change now." She smiled.

"Yes, except that which it is important to keep the same. They are Tok'ra children, Malek. **Tok'ra**."

"Yes." He held her to him then.

/

The stargate spun into action, glyphs locking and the iris spiralling closed protectively. General O'Neill, who had just been thinking that things had gotten a little quiet around here, for, oh, the past couple of hours, rushed into the gateroom nervously. He knew no one was scheduled back anytime soon. SG1 had already beaten him to it.

"Receiving Tok'ra IDC, sir," Walter announced, before he could ask.

"Open the iris," Jack ordered, then added hopefully, "Maybe it's Queenie." He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but the Tok'ra had kind of grown on him lately. The wormhole shut down again almost as soon as it had opened, leaving something small and light to drift down onto the ramp.

"Er…it's a piece of card," said Daniel.

"I can see that Daniel!" One of the SFs picked it up and ran it up to the gateroom, where Carter snagged it.

"Oh, it's in Tok'ra. I can't read it." Daniel triumphantly snagged it back. His eyebrows raised in surprise. He cleared his throat and read out loud:

'_To General Jack O'Neill, SG1, and the members of the SGC. The High Council of the Tok'ra extends greetings to our allies and – '_

- "Will you get to the point Daniel?"

- "I **am, **Jack…_'And warmly invites you to a party, to celebrate the arrival of the first batch of baby Tok'ra symbiotes (96!)'. _Daniel was cut off again by a deafening chorus of cheers and applause.

"Aw right!" Jack announced, punching the air in a manner not befitting a USAF general, "Way to go Queenie! And, might I add, it's about time somebody in this lousy galaxy invited us to a damn party!"

"This is indeed wonderful news," Teal'c opined more solemnly, as Daniel and Sam hugged each other excitedly.

"Is there anything else?" Jack wanted to know.

"Oh, just the time and date…oh wait, here we are,

'_The party will take the form of a buffet reception and will include speeches appropriate to the seriousness of the occasion, and a recital of a new piece of chamber music composed specially to mark this event. Dress code formal.' _ Jack's face was a picture of dismay.

"A **buffet reception, **Daniel? With speeches! Formal dress code! Damn those Tok'ra anyway, they can't even throw a decent party!"

"Hang on a minute," said Daniel, frowning, "There's another piece of paper tucked inside. It's addressed to you." He looked like he was about to open it anyway when Jack snatched it out of his hands, eyes narrowed.

"Daniel."

"Jack. You know you may need me to translate – "

"Oh good, it's in English." He looked up to find about twenty pairs of eyes fixed expectantly on him, and caved.

'_Dear Jack,_

_Fear not. Per'sus is planning some dignified and monstrously boring affair. However, Delek and Selmak have other ideas and have formulated an alternative plan (Garshaw, of course, is fence-sitting, but Selmak will talk her round). We will be having a Party of the highest calibre. There will be mountains of food, fireworks, games, drinking, dancing, more drinking, debauchery, etc., generating a non-stop display of outright hedonism for at least twenty-four hours, and you can wear whatever the hell you like. All the cool people in the galaxy will naturally be there. You are welcome too,_

_Love, Eleanor._

_PS: Delek says bring enough jello for an army, (by which she means herself, for about a week).' _There was a bit of an inky squiggle there, suggestive of an argument over the pen, perhaps.

Jack punched the air again.

"Aw right! Finally we get invited to a decent party!" There were cheers all round. Jack carefully folded the paper away. There was a last little bit of that note he'd kept to himself. Something about expecting an unwanted gatecrasher…


	30. Chapter 30

[A/N: I am soooooo sorry it's taken me ages to get the next chapter up and for not replying to reviews. I've been away at a conference and had piles of work. I have to confess here: I gave up watching SG1 somewhere at the beginning of season 10, so I'm deliberately vague on later events in the series ;) For consistency, I'm sticking to the old team members only, although you may have noticed that I did allow Jack to get promoted. There's just one more chapter after this and the epilogue and that's it! Thanks for sticking to it folks.]

* * *

**Chapter 30**

At the appointed hour, everybody was lined up in the gateroom, eager to depart and very ready for a big party, and loaded with drinks and gifts.

"Carter! What the hell you got **in **that box?" demanded Jack, as he swaggered in, clearly in a fine mood to party and exceedingly glad not to be wearing his dress uniform for a change.

"Oh, just some experimental stuff for Eleanor and – "

"Jeez!" He reconsidered. "Well, I suppose she **would **like that sort of present anyway."

"Nice shirt, Jack," Daniel commented sweetly.

"Nothing but the best! I **am **going to take tea with the Queen, don'tcherknow!" There was much eye rolling at this. The SGC had about had its fill of queen-related jokes. "Or, more hopefully, beer," he corrected, in response to their lack of uproarious laughter.

"I was unaware that there had been a System Lord from Hawaii, O'Neill," Teal'c remarked, deadpan as ever, with the one eyebrow raised. Jack glared at him as Daniel and Sam swallowed their giggles.

"Well let's go kids!"

/

The guests from the SGC materialised expectantly on the other side of the gate, standing on the new Tok'ra homeworld.

"Wow," said Sam, staring at the nearby city, impressed.

"Finally no tunnels," Jack agreed. "Looks pretty."

A delegation of soberly dressed Tok'ra was waiting for them.

"If you will accompany us," the leader said, bowing slightly, "Supreme High Councillor Per'sus is awaiting your arrival."

As they entered the city, everything seemed suspiciously….subdued. Jack frowned, beginning to get a bad feeling.

"Is it me, or is it a little...quiet, and, uh, **dark, **for a party?" Daniel remarked.

"They promised drinking and debauchery and – and – lots of other fun stuff!" Jack muttered, _soto voce, _so their guides wouldn't hear, "And they better deliver!"

They were led to the entrance of a grand square, framed at either end by two enormous trees, and neatly grassed over. It was surrounded on all sides by an impressive building somewhere between a palace and a cathedral, with open cloisters leading onto the square, and decorated with numerous balconies and turrets; constructed completely of crystal, of course.

"Now **that **is impressive," Daniel said, with a low whistle.

"Still a bit dark and quiet," said Sam.

/

Per'sus was waiting for them at the entrance to the square, in long, sombre flowing brown robes, a very stern expression on his face.

"Greetings, allies of the Tau'ri," he intoned, "We are pleased that you were able to attend our little celebration."

"Yeh – where is that exactly?" Jack wanted to know, not standing on ceremony as usual.

"There has been a slight change to our expected programme of events," Per'sus informed them, somewhat stiffly. "It was…brought to my attention that perhaps speeches and chamber music would not provide the appropriate…atmosphere to the celebration. Several alternatives were suggested; however, in light of the gravity of the occasion, and in the interest of continued mutual understanding between our peoples, it has been decided that the evening's entertainment shall consist of a re-enactment of the history of the Tok'ra, from our very beginnings until the present day. Naturally this will take most of the night."

"That sounds wonderful," Daniel said, very quickly, as a strangled noise escaped Jack, although whether that was because of the prospect of watching the entire history of the Tok'ra, or because Daniel had just trodden very firmly on his foot, was questionable.

"Yes, very, uh, long – uh, interesting," he managed to get out, self-consciously pulling his jacket closed over the very loud shirt. He glared at Daniel, who, damn him, looked like he really would find it rather fascinating.

Per'sus suddenly threw back his head and laughed, loud and long, then grinned at the Tau'ri, eyes flashing.

"Gotcha!" he said, wickedly, then clapped his hands. Abruptly, there was a terrific whizz and bang as a massive array of starbursting fireworks suddenly shot up and lit the night sky ablaze. Then, just as suddenly, the entire palace and square blazed with light and noise, and revellers flooded out, some of them in astonishing fancy dress, some in simply astonishing outfits, bringing tables and laying out food and drink as they went. Fountains shot up coloured water and musicians lowered on a stage to strike up with some lively, loud music.

"Per'sus you old clown you!" Jack accused, jabbing a finger at the High Councillor, who was still laughing, "You really had me going for a minute there!"

"Wow, it's like a wild Friday night on the town meets A Midsummer Night's Dream," was Daniel's appreciative comment, as they all headed eagerly into the town.

"So how many guests are you expecting?" Sam asked.

"Oh hundreds," Per'sus replied casually, "We, by which I mostly mean Selmak and Delek, invited almost everybody, including the Free Jaffa, the Pangarans and other allies from various former Goa'uld-occupied worlds. So I expect it will get pretty lively."

"Sounds fun," Sam said, eyes lighting up.

"Ah, that reminds me," Per'sus remarked, "Dr Jackson, I have a diplomatic favour to ask of you, if you would…."

"Oh of course," Daniel said, always happy to oblige, and Per'sus dropped his voice into a conspiratorial murmur. After a few moments, Daniel started grinning. The others, however, had noticed some familiar faces coming their way, and were distracted.

"Hey Mal, Dal, how ya doin? Been busy I hear!" Jack called out, winking.

"We are very well," Malek said, smiling happily; his whole face seemed alight and carefree.

"Certainly look it," Jack agreed, then threw his arms wide, and yelled, "Queenie!" as Eleanor/Delek approached.

"Hello Jack," Delek said, allowing him a big hug. "Have you started drinking already?"

"No! But I'm ready to get started!"

"Good."

"Ooh, wait, we got you presents!" He waved over Teal'c, who was carrying a large box.

"Jello," Teal'c informed them, "And chocolate, I believe."

"You're so sweet," Delek purred, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeh well you two better save me a dance for later."

"And we will too," Darin piped up, innocently.

"Er, right, thanks," Jack said, looking wary of another possible Tok'ra trick.

"Oh, I got that stuff Eleanor wanted," Sam said, distracted from her conversation with her father and Selmak, who had just arrived.

"Aw, great, thanks Sam! Ha! Anise is going to be **so **jealous when she sees this! And my chocolate!"

"And this is from me," Daniel said, handing over a large parcel. They pulled the wrapping paper off and burst out laughing.

"'A thousand and one baby names'," Eleanor read. "'From all Earth cultures'" "Thanks Daniel, you're a darling."

"Can we see the babies?" Sam asked, almost shyly.

"Of course, but maybe a bit later. We have to greet all our guests, and our sentries inform us that Master Bra'tac has just arrived."

"We'll go and meet him there," Malek said, "See you in a minute." He jogged off enthusiastically. Everybody else took one look at the enormous spread of food and drink that had suddenly appeared, and made a beeline for the goodies.

/

"You have to tell me," Jack asked them, some hours later, indicating the dancers that were filling up the whole central part of the enormous square, "How the hell you actually got the Jaffa and the Tok'ra to dance together."

"That was Per'sus' idea," Delek told him, "He is the consummate diplomat after all. He persuaded Daniel to 'let slip' to the Jaffa that traditional English barn dancing was a way of proving one's virility to a potential partner. The more dances you do, the greater your stamina."

"And they **bought **it?"

"From Daniel? Of course." Jack laughed.

"You Tok'ra are **sneaky,**" he accused, but good-naturedly. "And speaking of which, how'd you get your guys to join in? They didn't buy that, surely."

"No, but we arranged it so that a few of the more…talkative ones, overheard Daniel telling the Jaffa, and so of course they do not wish to be outdone."

"You know you may have a few fights on your hand by the end of the night." Delek shrugged.

"Maybe, but I suspect nobody wants to spoil our night, so they will mostly behave."

"I still can't believe Per'sus pulled one over on me like that," Jack grumbled, good-naturedly. "I didn't think he had it in him!" Delek smiled tolerantly.

"Per'sus has spent hundreds of years being polite and diplomatic, settling disputes and appearing proper in public. He loves nothing than, as you would say, letting his hair down in private. He was in on the joke from the start, and he knew you'd fall for it, because Per'sus the High Councillor is the only way you've seen him before."

"Well," said Jack, thoughtfully, "I guess there's a lot of ways I haven't seen you folk before." It was as close to an acknowledgement as they were going to get, and Delek inclined her head, graciously, but wisely did not push the issue any further.

Sam and Daniel came up to them then, looking expectant, and Delek got up, smiling.

"So, you wanted to see the babies?" she asked. "Follow me."

"Yes, on you go," waved Jack, "I'm going to go…find Teal'c. And some more drink."

Sam splashed her hand in the water for the umpteenth time, smiling delightedly as the baby symbiotes approached to investigate and tickled her fingers.

"They're very curious," she remarked. "And kind of….cute, I guess."

"Did you decide on names yet, or do they take their own?"asked Daniel.

"Actually we did," Delek replied, "For now, at least, we decided to name them all after former Tok'ra hosts."

"That's….actually really touching," said Daniel.

"Dad told me about that earlier," offered Sam, "I gather it was a popular decision. Selmak was certainly pleased."

"Our hosts make us what we are," Delek said, seriously, "And the numbers that have given their lives – both living for us and dying for us – are many. This is the least way we can honour them."

"You mean that literally, don't you," Daniel observed, shrewdly, "That your hosts make you what you are."

"Yes," Delek said, simply, "Eleanor was right when she pointed out that the goa'uld are essentially an asocial species, which is why they are so bad at cooperating with each other. When they began to take humans as hosts, they took on their physical aspect, and, as you may have noticed, some enjoyment in the physical properties their hosts supplied them with, but, because they never integrated their minds fully with them, instead suppressing them, they did not take on the mental aspects. The Tok'ra are different; we are, looked at a certain way, more human than the goa'uld. We form lasting bonds of love and friendship between each other, for example."

"The goa'uld exploited the tendencies of human societies to group together and divide labour, by imposing their own hierarchical structure on them, with the go'auld at the top and the human slaves at the bottom," said Daniel, "But they have no real society of their own."

"Tok'ra society is, essentially, human society," agreed Delek, "We have become a social species because this is what we have learnt from our hosts. Moreoever, particularly with our relatively small groups, our society is structured more like your ancestral hunter-gatherer tribes, with an equal sharing of what may be termed property, a division of labour according to ability, not status, and with elders mediating disputes and community decisions."

"That…is starting to make so much sense I wonder I didn't see it before," said Daniel.

"As Eleanor reminds me, it is very hard, sometimes, to see the obvious."

"It _is_ going to be different now, isn't it?" asked Sam, "I mean, human society will change now that the goa'uld are gone, the hosts you are getting are going to change."

"Not to mention on top of that with the goa'uld gone, the very purpose of your original existence is also gone," added Daniel.

"You are quite correct," said Delek, "We are Tok'ra: 'against Ra.' We have always been defined by what we are not: we are not goa'uld, we are against the System Lords. We have never been defined by what we **are. **We will always keep our name, for we must not forget where we came from and what sacrifices we made to get here, but we never really thought about what to do once the war with the goa'uld was over. For the first time in two thousand years we are truly free, and we must decide what we mean to do with it, and what we truly are."

"Well the Free Jaffa and the newly liberated humans are going to have to do that too," said Sam.

"True, but that's what humans excel at," said Daniel, his eyes glowing with excitement, "Changing themselves."

"Yes," agreed Delek. "Cultural evolution: the great strength of the human species. It is a brave new galaxy we live in, is it not?"

/

Pondering Delek's words, Daniel and Sam found her father sitting at the edges of the main party, watching the revellers with a thoughtful smile on his face, whilst Jack chattered something on to him that he probably wasn't really listening to.

"So did you see the cute little snaky bundles of joy?" Jack asked, albeit light-heartedly. Jacob patted the grass for her to sit down next to him.

"Yeh we did. There's a lot more than I thought there would be. Everybody must be thrilled."

"We are," agreed Jacob, then he rolled his eyes, "Although as you might imagine, Delek has been positively preening ever since." Sam laughed.

"Actually, Daniel and I just had quite an interesting chat with her, about the nature of the Tok'ra, and where you go from here."

"I will admit," Selmak said, a wicked twinkle in his eye, "That Delek is at last starting to show some signs of growing into wisdom." Both Sam and Jack laughed at that.

"So where _do_ you go from here?" asked Jack, sounding genuinely curious. Jacob sighed.

"It's a question. A lot of things are going to change. Take one thing: the hosts. Most of the Tok'ra have always had human hosts who have lived under goa'uld oppression. I don't think you appreciate the lack of advantage these people had: it was rare that they were anything other than completely illiterate, for example. And I will admit; the great imbalance between host and symbiote in that sense hasn't always been for the best. Selmak hopes that with improvements in the lives of the humans, and the experience of freedom, will make for a more truly equal partnership."

"And that won't cause problems?"

"It might, occasionally. People are hard to change, after all, but look at Delek: now she has seen for herself what it is like to have an educated, empowered host, she has changed her position utterly."

"Incidentally – " Jacob added, before there was a brief electronic chirrup. He retrieved a comm unit from his pocket and exchanged a few terse words with whomever was calling.

"That your gatecrasher?" asked Jack, although his voice had taken on a keen edge. Jacob winced slightly.

"Even if he'd been coming through the gate, Jack, that was a terrible pun, and yes it is."

"Are we good to go then sir?" Sam asked, all business again. Jacob looked annoyed.

"What part of 'tell no one' did you not understand?"

"What part of 'team' do you not understand?" retorted Jack, swinging up and palming a gun that had mysteriously appeared from his pocket. "Come on, we don't want him getting away. Does Eleanor know what she has to do? Are they up to it?"

"Oh they're up to it all right," Jacob agreed, grimly, the party mood entirely evaporated, "You go ahead. I'll make sure your back-up is there."

"Got it," said Jack, and SG1 were on a mission again.


	31. Chapter 31

[This is the last chapter; the one after this is an epilogue, and an appendix containing the sources of some quotations I used, mostly in part IV, and was too bad at formatting nicely to appropriately attribute earlier. There is also a brief explanation of the "science" ideas behind the story. I'm almost scared to finish it, but we must make it through to the end!]

* * *

**Chapter 31.**

Eleanor/Delek had deliberately lingered after Sam and Daniel left them, and were only now walking back up from the baby pools when they felt the soft whisper from their hidden earpiece that warned them to be ready. Eleanor immediately felt a thrill of fear run through her. He was here.

_He won't hurt us, _Delek promised, fiercely, _He won't get away._

_I know, _she replied, _Even though I was expecting this it's still…a shock. Please…take over._

_You can do this._

_Delek…_

_All right. _Eleanor retreated, relieved, and Delek carried on walking purposefully back to the party, without so much as a break in their stride. As she came above ground she glanced briefly around, apparently casually, spotting her friends as they mingled apparently at random amongst the revellers. They were still quite a way apart from the main crowd, walking along the colonnade. Light and shadow alternated through the pillars. They were still quite alone. This was the most dangerous part. She stepped through to a secluded courtyard adjourning the main one, where a small fountain bubbled quietly in the night. There was the slightest suggestion of a flicker against the flowing water and then – he was suddenly there, his personal cloak deactivating.

"Good evening, Baal," Delek greeted him cordially, "You know, I don't recall specifically inviting you. Any of you." Baal smiled unpleasantly.

"Well how could I miss the social event of the season?" He sniffed a little, disdainfully. "I must say, you Tok'ra really don't know how to throw a proper party."

"And you should have kept your personal shield up." Baal's smile became even nastier, and he raised his arm, hand device already glowing.

"Oh I don't think anyone can see us here." His eyes flashed briefly. "A Tok'ra queen in a Tau'ri host. Is there anything more…abominable?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things," Delek said, dryly. _Let me take over, _Eleanor demanded suddenly, on a surge of indignation, and Delek acceded.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked, pointedly, and Baal's jaw clenched angrily.

"I could scarce credit that you would sell yourself to the _Tok'ra. _First you escape me, then you _insult _me."

"I realise that you may find this hard to believe, but it really wasn't about you."

"You dare defy a god! It was _always _about me, and you will pay the price for your insolence. If I cannot have you, no one will." Eleanor cocked her head slightly.

"No one _does,_" she said, sounding genuinely confused. The hand device flared into life, and a quiet click sounded from just behind Baal. The goa'uld froze, and very carefully glanced to the side, where Jack O'Neill stood, his gun aimed straight at the System Lord's head. Out of the shadows on either side stepped Bra'tac, staff weapon levelled, and Malek, zat trained. Baal carefully lowered his hand.

"Look friend Malek," said Bra'tac, "Another ashrak. Although this one does not seem as threatening as the last."

"Indeed. Quite toothless."

"A Tok'ra, a Tau'ri and a Jaffa," Baal sneered, nonetheless, "How…touching."

"Yeh, you know, the people that kicked your _butt,_" Jack pointed out, helpfully. They weren't the only ones either; by now, a large crowd had gathered round. Baal scowled furiously. He opened his mouth to say something but before he got the chance Malek zatted him. Eleanor looked at him in surprise.

"He is the last clone. The host may yet be saved," Malek said.

"An excellent point," Bra'tac agreed.

"Are you all right?" Malek asked her.

"Yes, of course. I'm fine. Nobody _owns _me," she repeated, crossly.

"Some guys just don't get it," said Jack, watching as a limp and helpless Baal was carried off by some Tok'ra and Jaffa.

_I am so proud of you, _Delek said to Eleanor, glowing.

_Oh stop it. We were never in any danger. I don't know what all the fuss was about. _Delek made no reply, but Eleanor could sense her smugness; oh well, smug was pretty much Delek's default mode lately.

"Come on," she said to Malek, "Let's get back to the party." He smiled and took her arm.

"So, Jacob," Jack observed, as they left, "Putting on a bit of a display for the guests? A little show of unity." Jacob tried to look modest, and failed.

"It can do no harm to see a great enemy captured by Tok'ra, Jaffa and Tau'ri," Bra'tac answered for him.

"Yeh, that's what I figured. Come on, let's go find the others."

**/**

Daniel and Sam proved to be sitting off to one side of the revellers, having a brief respite and tucking into some more food. Jack was quick to join in. It was getting late; a faint light of pink in the east showed where the dawn was rising.

"Eleanor seems to be much better," observed Daniel, watching as Delek/Eleanor and Malek/Darin found appeared for a dance, smiling and laughing. "I don't think any of us realised what trauma was hidden beneath the surface, but now…you can see a difference. She's more open, more…carefree, almost."

"She's doing well," said Jacob, "Obviously, you can't undo all the damage done by a goa'uld in a few months, particularly not the sort of horror Atropos inflicted on her, but she's definitely improved a lot, and we're all very glad to see it."

"She's got good people round her," said Jack, "She'll be all right."

"I wanted to ask, but kind of didn't have the nerve," began Sam, "A queen can control what memories she passes to her offspring, right? I mean, we saw that with Egeria on Pangar, or was that just an all-or-nothing option?"

"No," said Selmak, confirming her suspicions, "Egeria, in creating our race, erased many of the memories of the goa'uld in order to free her children from their evil."

"So did Delek pass on all of her memories? Of Eleanor's?"

"That's a question that we have not quite dared to ask," said Selmak, "And are not sure if we should."

"What do you mean?" asked Daniel.

"Delek's current host suffered the torment of being possessed by a goa'uld; his previous host suffered the torment of being enslaved by one, violations of both body and mind. To pass such memories onto one's children…it is a terrible thing, and I do not know if Eleanor would be happy with them knowing her suffering. On the other hand, to erase her experiences as if they never were, would perhaps feel disrespectful to what she endured. The simple answer is: we do not know. We suspect Delek passed on some limited memories of them both, but the whole, we very much doubt."

"But if they have those memories, then no Tok'ra could ever be tempted to behave like a goa'uld, because they'd know, from experience, how utterly evil and terrible that is." Selmak sighed.

"It is a difficult dilemma," he agreed, "Tok'ra, and goa'uld, are not like human children. They are not born innocent. All humans have the capacity to be both good and evil, and, despite what they may wish to believe, their actions often depend upon the circumstances in which they find themselves, and of those around them. But they can change. With the accumulated centuries of memories of tyranny, and being ever warped by the sarcophagus, the goa'uld lost the ability to behave any other way."

"Are you saying that it wasn't really their fault?" Daniel asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Although it is anathema to me to excuse them in any way, there is at least some truth to what you say. Eleanor would tell you that the lesson of cruelty is kindness, not malice. The lesson of injustice is mercy, not revenge. And the lesson of evil, is good. But Eleanor was raised in goodness and taught goodness and experienced only goodness before Atropos took her. Faced with that great evil, she reacted instinctively with goodness. One does not learn to be good by being shown evil; one learns to be good, by being shown goodness. The Tok'ra children will not need to be taught how **not **to be goa'uld; they will only need to be taught how to be Tok'ra. They need the example of goodness, not evil."

"Still holding out as the oldest and wisest eh?" was Jack's somewhat irreverant remark to this impassioned speech. Selmak merely cocked an eyebrow.

"If you think I am conceding to the likes of Delek on that, think again." They all laughed. In the main square ahead of them, people were pairing off and forming lines for the promised barn dance, and the Tok'ra and Jaffa both were piling in.

"Come on Daniel," said Sam, enthusiastically, "This looks like fun!"

"Not joining in?" Jacob asked Jack after a moment.

"My knees Jacob!" he protested, with a not very convincing grimace.

"Well, maybe once you've had a bit more to drink," teased Jacob, but then fell silent again, just watching, pensively.

"You're kind of quiet yourself," Jack prodded. "Something on your mind?" The Tok'ra sighed.

"Sel and I were just thinking…that this may be the last time all the Tok'ra – all the original Tok'ra that are left – are gathered in one place. You can see people divided in what they want to do next already. Some Tok'ra want to just quietly retire and spend the rest of the days in whatever pursuit they never had a chance to before. Some want to go out and help rebuild worlds, rebuild communities – become part of those communities. Others want to turn away from the rest of the galaxy and just be with their own kind. And quite a few – "

" – don't know what to do at all, now the war's over?" Jack supplied, quietly.

"Yeh. A lot of us have been playing this game so long it's hard to think of anything else to do."

"Well, we could always use good intelligence," Jack pointed out, "Particularly as since the Goa'uld have fallen a whole bunch of other assholes seem to be keen on taking their place."

"Yeh, we heard about that a bit," Jacob remarked, wryly, and Jack made a face. "And you'll have no shortage of volunteers. Plus there are still plenty of individual goa'uld out there who have escaped justice; we intend to hunt them down, for the crimes they've committed against their hosts, if nothing else. But it's hard for the older ones; the younger Tok'ra may have some of our memories, but they've never lived the life we have. And I hope they never will. But Selmak worries, that we will become estranged from each other. A fragmented people."

"I think there's plenty of folk who are going to stop that from trying to happen, including their mother, er, mothers…whatever," Jack pointed out, then added, more seriously, "But that's the deal Jacob, you know that. All old soldiers know that. The freedom you spend you life fighting for you give to your children. It's not for yourself." Jacob nodded, but he did not reply, then his head dipped, and a determined look entered his eyes as he stood up.

"Come on," said Selmak, the smile not quite reaching his eyes, "I am told one is never too old to party. And tonight is for celebration; tomorrow we can worry about the future."

Grumbling, Jack allowed himself to be dragged into the fray, where, in the centre of a whirling crowd of dancers, Eleanor/Delek and Malek/Darin spun around each other, breathless and laughing. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, but for now, the stars still shone above their heads, their hearts were filled with joy, and the future was limitless.

/


	32. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It was a year of anniversaries; 200 years since the defeat of the System Lords, 150 years since the Stargate program became known to the world, 350 years since the publication of Darwin's _Origin of Species, _and, in a very small corner of a world that was the birthplace of humanity, the 1000th anniversary of Cambridge University.

Alissa Hargreaves, a paltry 19 years by comparison, and struggling to shift her ill-fitting robe in a way that would make it stay on her shoulders, hustled out into the older of the quads at Queen's College, worried that she was going to be late for her matriculation dinner. It didn't start for another half hour, but she had got lost twice already since arriving four days ago, and she was moreover both terribly excited to be here and terribly nervous that she might turn out to be not quite clever enough to do justice to it.

She almost didn't see the man standing in the centre of the quad as she hurried out into the chill October air; the sun had already set and old lamps shed little light in the quad. A thin drizzle was just starting, and she stopped at the doorway, looking curiously at him as he just stood there in the centre of the space, his head uplifted and eyes closed, a serene expression on his face. _His _gown fit him far better, she noted, ruefully.

He still didn't move as she approached, and she wondered if she should say something, lest she startle him, when suddenly his eyes opened and he looked straight at her, and smiled. Unless he was a mature student, she couldn't imagine that he was a fresher; she judged him to be in his late thirties, with a face that, whilst not handsome, was pleasant.

"Hello," she said, uncertainly. "Er, are you all right?"

"Hello," he said back, and nodded a bow, which wasn't at all common and made her wonder excitedly if he came from offworld. "I am fine, thank you. I was just…remembering."

"Oh, were you a student here before then?" she asked, feeling sure that this must be the case; his gown, she could see as she approached, was that of a fellow. He chuckled lightly.

"Oh no, but – well, it is complicated." He looked to say something else, then, as if recollecting himself, said "Oh, forgive me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lorin Tarrik." He extended a hand, which she took, a little gingerly.

"Alissa Hargreaves," she said, determined to be polite, "I'm from San Francisco. I've just started here. I'm studying nano medicine."

"How interesting," he replied, politely, "I am from the planet Pangar; I am Tok'ra."

"Really?" she almost squeaked in her excitement, and was immediately embarrassed. But how cool! Not only from another world, but Tok'ra! "Then, er, you are the host…?" she questioned hopefully. To her delight, he smiled again and dipped his head, and his eyes flashed briefly. _Cool cool cool! _she thought, knowing this would go in her first letter home.

"I am called Kyen," he said again, in a strange, resonant voice, "I am the symbiote. We are pleased to meet you."

"Oh the pleasure's all mine!" she gushed, meaning it, and shaking his hand again enthusiastically, "I've never met a Tok'ra before."

"And we have never been to Earth before," he replied, kindly, "So this is an adventure for us too."

"But you said you remembered…" she began. He smiled again; he had a very nice smile.

"My host-mother studied here," he explained, "She loved this place well."

"Really? What a coincidence! My great-grandmother was master of this college, so I have a lot to live up to."

"Beth Hargreaves?" Kyen asked, a look of wonderment on his face, "I remember her. Eleanor – my host-mother – they were the closest of friends."

"That's…extraordinary," Alissa replied, awed by the depth of time that must be contained in his memory, and feeling very young and naïve by comparison. His head dipped again, and Lorrin was back.

"Kyen thinks that we should be friends also," he said, and she smiled back.

"I think I would like that very much. Aren't you a fellow here though?"

"Yes," he replied, "We are here to teach engineering; we are the first amongst the new exchange program of researchers from the off-world universities. However, we hope also to undertake some studies."

"I would have thought that there isn't much you could learn that you don't already know," she said, thinking out loud, and still slightly over-awed at meeting her very first alien.

"There are always things to learn," he replied, in a manner that did remind her rather unfortunately of one of her former schoolteachers.

"What are you interested in learning then?"

"We had thought to study your Earth literature." Alissa made a face. She had never had much time for non-science subjects.

"I can't imagine why you'd want to study a bunch of old stories," she said without thinking, then felt awfully rude.

"Stories are important," Kyen replied, apparently seriously – they had switched without indicating, as it were, and his voice surprised her.

"Oh, well, I guess I never really thought about it before," she said, slightly abashed, but he smiled kindly again and she immediately felt better. "Perhaps you can persuade me of their merits sometime."

"I will," he promised, then looked at the sky and made a face, "I recall this place with more sunshine," he said, wryly, "Not dark and now raining quite significantly, I note. Come on, let us go to dinner."

"I'm not sure where it is," Alissa said, peering round.

"Neither am I. There have been some changes in the past two hundred years, but we have a little time yet. Come, let us explore."

"What if we get lost?" she asked, amused. His chin lifted slightly, with a certain air of proud defiance about it, but his eyes glinted with humour, almost as though he were laughing at himself.

"Then we will find our way again," he stated, confidently, and with that, he started walking briskly across the courtyard without waiting for a reply, which she thought was a little arrogant, but, on the other hand…she hurried to catch him up, and they went on together.

/

"We are all afraid, for our confidence, for the future, for the world, that's the nature of the human imagination, yet every man, every civilisation, has gone forward, because of it's engagement with what it has set itself to do." (Bronowski – the Ascent of Man).

END.

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[Thank you so much to all those who read all the way through to the end, particularly if you took the time to leave reviews. In fact, thanks to anyone who even read a little bit! I'm glad this is finally over, but also kind of sad. I hope you felt it was worth it].

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**Appendix**

**_Source of quotations_**

["The awakened and knowing say:] body am I entirely, and nothing else; and soul is only a word for something about the body": Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra

Hell is oneself; Hell is alone, [the other figures in it merely projections. There is nothing to escape from, and nothing escape to]. (George Eliot).

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n (Milton, Paradise Lost, I, 255. Note it is actually Satan who says this!)

One, two, three, four five,

Once I caught a fish alive,

Six, seven, eight nine ten

Then I let it go again

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so

Which little finger did it bite?

This little finger on my right! (Traditional nursery rhyme).

The spirit of peace descended like a cloud from heaven, for if the spirit of peace dwells anywhere, it is in the courts and quadrangles of Oxbridge on a fine October morning. (Woolf: Shakespeare's sister).

It takes all the running you can do, just to stay in the same place (The Red Queen, Alice in Wonderland; I confess to not having read this book, or seen the film, so any similarities are purely coincidental).

_Ex ovo omnia _("all from the egg"): Motto on the front of William Harvey's "On the generation of living creatures".

If I should die, think only this of me;

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England….

… And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; (The Soldier, Rupert Brooke – paraphrased by Eleanor)

To be the _object _of desire is to be defined in the passive case. To exist in the passive case is to die in the passive case – that is, to be killed. This is the moral of the fairy tale about the perfect woman. (Angela Carter, about/from The Bloody Chamber).

Every judgement in science stands on the edge of error and is personal (Bronowski; The Ascent of Man)

What every strong intellect wants to be is a guardian of integrity (Bronowski; The Ascent of Man)

Remember, my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker. (Van Helsing, Dracula, Bram Stoker).

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven

That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,

…When the ghost begins to quicken, confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken by the injustice of the skies for punishment?' (The Cold Heaven, WB Yeats)

There is a Moment in each Day that Satan cannot find

Nor can his Watch Fiends find it, but the Industrious find

This Moment and it multiply, and when it once is found

It renovates every Moment of the Day if rightly placed (Milton, William Blake)

I have no mouth and I must scream… Taken from the Harlan Ellison story of the same name.

I already told you ma'am, it was not an indigenous lifeform, it was not from there, do you get me?... (Aliens – note not Alien – this is a hint that Eleanor is already, subconsciously, thinking about queens, because it is the second film that features the Alien queen).

'What lies below the visible world is always imaginary, a play of images. There is no other way to talk about the invisible: in nature, in art or in science.' (Bronowski, The Ascent of Man)

'The last great alliance of elves and men…' (From Lord of the Rings, of course. Vast numbers of SF and fantasy works are influenced by Tolkien, and I think SG1 can be argued to be a little too; the last alliance of elves and men, is, of course, referring to the Tok'ra/Tau'ri.)

'Knowledge is power' is originally from Francis Bacon.

'Time is the great enemy of power' is taken from the BBC adaptation 'Elizabeth' (with Helen Mirren).

**_Notes_**

The central idea for this fic – that the Goa'uld can undergo a host-induced metamorphosis to become a queen – was largely inspired by the Red Queen hypothesis first put forth by Leigh van Valen to explain two different phenomena: the advantage of sexual reproduction at the level of individuals, and the constant evolutionary arms race between competing species. "For an evolutionary system, continuing development is needed just in order to maintain its fitness relative to the systems it is co-evolving with." This has since been taken to explain the evolution of sexual reproduction itself, from a selfish gene viewpoint, by considering that organisms are engaged in arms races with their parasites, by contending that the role of positing that the role of sex is to preserve genes that are currently disadvantageous, but that will become advantageous against the background of a likely future population of parasites. (See Matt Ridley's _Red Queen, _for a well-written popular science view). I mixed this with developmental concepts of neoteny (retention of juvenile features in the adult form) and metamorphosis. When I considered the fact that the Goa'uld biology as it stood in the series makes _no _sense, from an evolutionary standpoint, for a parasitic lifeform, and that humans were known not to be their original host species, it sort of took off by itself.

The dragon form that Eleanor sees in her visions is of course what Delek would refer to as a "classic monster archetype", and represents the goa'uld. Being of a logical mind, Eleanor subconsciously translates dragons into dinosaurs – the Tok'ra, following this logic, are birds, the living descendants of dinosaurs.

Monster from the Id is a reference to the destructive subconscious Id made manifest as a real monster, as in Forbidden Planet.

"Lucy" is a reference to the Australopithecus hominid skeleton nicknamed Lucy.


End file.
